


Anger's Monstrous Child

by whatkindoftea (haeli)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haeli/pseuds/whatkindoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With only bitterness and anger in his heart, Changmin is transformed into a monster by an enchantress’s curse, and for twenty years the stories of the Beast of Angoulême terrify children in nearby towns.  With less than a year until the spell becomes permanent, hope sparks with the arrival of Yunho - the only son of a man who has a debt to pay. [A Beauty and the Beast AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [changdeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/changdeer/gifts).



> This fic is an irreverent amalgamation of the original French story, Disney’s version, and historical inaccuracies because if Disney can bend things around then so can I. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry, but I had a ball writing this (except for when I didn’t). 
> 
> Partially inspired by [ this ](http://d3j5vwomefv46c.cloudfront.net/photos/large/543598884.jpg?1332401103) fan art by Butter.

The ink lines on the parchment blurred in the torchlight, and Changmin rubbed at the exhaustion in his eyes.  His hand felt like sandpaper on his face, and the cold draft of the stone room seeped through the linen of his shirt, a damp cold creeping through the castle as a storm raged on outside, rain pelting the outer walls noisily.   Pushing aside the chill, he gazed at the map detailing the campaign lines of his father’s war.

 

A war that was now over.

 

With a sigh, Changmin scrubbed a hand through his long hair, grabbing once more for the letter that had arrived earlier that day. The large boar that served as the seal of the marquis swung back and forth from the bottom of the parchment as Changmin raised it to eye level.  

 

His father was dead - had been dead for near a month - and now it fell to Changmin to deal with the remnants of the army raised more than a decade ago.  It had been called to march when he was still a small boy in order to satisfy the rage of his father’s grief. His mother’s death had been difficult, and his father had sought comfort in war and conquest.   Apparently, there had been more solace on the battlefield than at home with his young son. Changmin was left with ten years of memories empty of parents and true affection; only suits of armor and servants kept his company as he had grown into a young man.  

 

Old anger and fresh regret twisted around the new marquis’s heart and wrenched a dry sob from his chest. 

 

“Stupid man,” Changmin muttered, tossing the letter onto the table top, eyes stinging at the words on the paper.   The quiet of the room was broken by the sound of footsteps on the cold stone floor.  

 

“Sire?” Changmin smiled slightly at the questioning voice of Kyuhyun, his servant and one of his closest friends.

 

“Yes, Kyuhyun,” Changmin looked up from the maps and ledgers and letters to stare at the man in the doorway, taking in his slightly wet appearance with a bemused look. 

 

“Someone has called to the castle,” Kyuhyun looked uncertain as he reported the news, “she wants to see you.”

 

Even through the narrow windows, the rain was visible at a glance.  The visitor would be mad to travel during the storm.  It put Changmin ill at ease and kindled his temper.  

 

“Who could possibly be out at this time? In this weather?” he snapped, standing briskly from the chair to gather his dark, fur-lined coat.

 

“I do not know her, Sire,” Kyuhyun ducked his head, “but she seems frail, and she insisted on meeting with you.”  There was no option to ignore the request.  

 

“Damn her,” Changmin muttered, pulling on the heavy coat and striding from the room with Kyuhyun following at his shoulder.  

 

Thunder clapped loudly beyond the castle walls, and the torch flames flickered in their sconces as the two men made their way to the gatehouse.  Just on the inside of the entrance stooped an old woman, hunched and wheezing.  

 

She was pathetic, and Changmin felt a twinge of distaste.  

 

Kyuhyun lightly cleared his throat and announced Changmin as the Earl, still unaware of the letter Changmin had received hours before.  

 

Biting his tongue, Changmin let it go and looked to the old woman on his doorstep.  

 

She was once beautiful, he supposed - her eyes were clear and crystalline blue, and he could see beneath the wrinkled and paunched skin the signs of graceful features.  But now, she looked haggard and shabby, and Changmin did not have the time or heart for charity that night. 

 

“What do you require of me?” Changmin pulled his coat tighter against the cold as he looked down at her with suspicion.  

 

“Shelter,” she smiled, “shelter and hospitality. Perhaps even company, my lord.”

 

“This is not a sanctuary,” he did not like her look, “Why should I help you?”

 

Her wizened hands clutched together. “I am a traveller, weary from the storm.  Will you deny me rest and warmth?”

 

Changmin was about to say no, that he would not deny her, until her broach caught his eye.  It glinted in the dull light, but the outline of a bear was clear in the worked metal.  His heart was torn again at the sight of the crest responsible for his father’s long absence and death, and ten years of loneliness broke over him, hot and cold all at once. 

 

“Get out,” he whispered, unable to look away from the crest at her throat, “Get out of my home.”   

 

Kyuhyun gaped, “Sire-”

 

“Get out!” Changmin shouted at the woman, temper splintering as she continued to stare and grin.  

 

“Why, my young Marquis,” her eyes were sharp as Changmin gasped at the title, “Whatever is the matter?”

 

A confused glance from Kyuhyun only fueled Changmin’s anger.  He alone knew the content of the letter; this woman had no business with the knowledge.

 

“How do you know that?” Changmin spat, advancing on the old woman before him, half out of his mind with grief and exhaustion.  

 

“What is she talking about?” Kyuhyun tried to pull Changmin back, but he threw his friend’s hand off him with a growl.  

 

“How do you know about my father?” Changmin was nearly shouting, and he decided he didn’t care how she had found out.  The rushing noise in his ears was deafening. “Leave. Now!” 

 

Changmin had always been rash and a bit spoiled, but rarely was he so cold-hearted.  The volume and harshness of his words had gathered some of the castle residents, each of them skirting the edge of the entry in apprehension. 

 

“Will you truly throw an old woman out into the cold and the rain to die?” She spoke slowly, voice measured. “Think carefully.” 

 

“Truly, I will,” Changmin seethed, “I will turn away an old, ugly crow who knows too much.  I will let you perish, and I will sleep well tonight.” 

 

“My dear boy,” the last word still and sad, “you will not sleep well for a long time, I think.”  With the flick of her wrist, the torches extinguished themselves, and the hall was thrust into darkness.  The shouts of confused servants echoed in the large stone room, and Changmin could hear Kyuhyun trying to calm a few of them.  

 

Changmin was reaching toward where the woman last stood when light split the air of the hall, hot and damning.  

 

Unable to bear the brightness, Changmin flung an arm across his face as a shield, but even the heavy fur coat was useless to keep out the glaring light.

 

“Changmin, Marquis of Angoulême, you have been found wanting.” The voice that echoed through the entry sounded next to nothing like the crone, and Changmin slowly brought his arm down to look at who stood before him. 

 

She was a beautiful woman, tall and imperious.  The light faded until he could see her more clearly, taking in the rich green fabric of her dress and the dark locks falling down her back and over her shoulders.  But for all her allure, she was terrifying, and Changmin took a staggering step backwards at the force of the Enchantress’s presence. 

 

“Wanting?” he glanced around the room but the other patrons were hidden to him by her light. 

 

“You would have allowed an old woman to die,” the Enchantress reached into a fold of her gown and removed a single red rose, its petals still closed tightly, and Changmin stared as she held it out to him.

 

“She knew things,” Changmin tried to protest, not touching the flower, “She knew about my father!” 

 

“Why does it matter?” the Enchantress softened her tone, “Perhaps she met the messenger on the road.  Half the _marche_ and the regions beyond knew.  What threat did she pose to you?”

 

Changmin didn’t have an answer.

 

“Changmin, you have let your bitterness and your loneliness change you,” she gave him a pitying smile.  “Unfortunately, not for the better.  You have let yourself be spoiled; you are closed off to those around you.” 

 

He wanted to protest, to speak of his friendship with Kyuhyun, but he knew she spoke the truth.

 

“You do not know what it means to love unconditionally,” the Enchantress continued as the flower began to glow with its own light.  “There is no warmth in your heart - not for yourself and not for others.  And that is dangerous.” 

 

“What would you have me do?”

 

“I would have you learn,” the rose was handed to him, and with no choice Changmin took it carefully.  “And until you do, you will not know your own face nor those of your household.” 

 

Changmin didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant as his body was lacerated with pain.  He heard himself cry out as blood burned in his veins and bones twisted beneath his skin.  The light grew hotter, and he felt his skeleton shift and reform. 

 

“You have twenty years,” He heard over his agony. “Until the last petal falls.”

 


	2. The Debt

The papers stack up and scrawl out across the wooden desk, and they all say the same thing: debts must be paid.  

 

Yunho sighs and hopes his father will return from the harbor soon, that he will come back with something that could help them.  His father is a modest merchant, and all of their family’s wealth had been poured into a voyage that had come to nothing, leaving them all but homeless even while sister’s illness still requires care. 

 

Two weeks ago, word had reached their home on the outskirts of town that a ship had been spotted approaching the shore line, and it seemed to be one of his father’s.  The older man had set out the very evening, praying that his troubles had finally ended.  The bills for Jihye’s illness were starting to mount, and they could no longer buy medicine as well as food.  

 

His thoughts are interrupted by a brisk knock at the door.  

 

“Yunho?” A voice calls through the open window, “Yunho, open up!”  

 

With a grin Yunho hurries to greet his friend Siwon. He opens the door with a smile and is pleased to see it returned on his friend’s handsome face.  Siwon is tall like him, but refined in a way that speaks of old money.  His family is an important part of the local government, had been for generations, and Siwon’s demeanor and attitude attests to the ease of living that comes with wealth and connections.  But for all his privilege he can be kind, and Yunho likes his smile.   

 

They had become friends later than people expected.  Siwon had been spoiled and rude when he was young, and it rubbed Yunho the wrong way.  It wasn’t until much later, when school and age had dulled Siwon’s childish impulses to take what was not his, that they became close.  They had been nearly inseparable, and ten years later at twenty-two and twenty-one they speak nearly every day. 

 

After a brief embrace in the doorway, Siwon asks, “Any news from your father?” 

 

“We haven’t heard from him since he left,” Yunho admits with a shake of his head, “He should be returning today or tomorrow.” 

 

“I hope it is sooner rather than later,” Siwon grips Yunho’s shoulder briskly, expression serious as he continues, “How is Jihye?” 

 

“Not well.” Yunho’s sister was bed ridden, but improving. She had been sleeping through the night for the past week,  “She’s resting upstairs.” 

 

“Then let’s not disturb her - perhaps we could go for a walk instead.”

 

The weather was pleasantly cool, a lovely fall day, but Yunho was tired and did not have the energy to listen to his friend gossip about all the women seeking him out for marriage.  Most other days Yunho would have nodded along, adding his opinion here and there when required, but today Yunho begs off the invitation by claiming he needed to remain home to watch over Jihye and wait for word on the ship.

 

“If you insist,” Siwon shrugs, and then his face grows solemn, “You would tell me if you needed help, right Yunho?”

 

“I would,” Yunho answers honestly, never one for lies.  “You know I would, Siwon.” 

 

Satisfied with the answer, Siwon takes his leave, having accomplished what he could with the visit, and Yunho is left to continue to stare blankly at the letters piling up on the desk and hope that soon the problems would be relieved.  

 

* * *

 

His father returns at the darkest time of the night, crashing through the front door and waking the entire household.  Jihye jolts from slumber and begins crying in feverish delusion, believing the Beast of _Angoulême_ had come to eat them in their beds.  Yunho manages to calm her with quiet whispers and reassurances that it is only a story - a silly story concocted by over zealous bards who would weave any tale for an extra coin - until she stops crying and starts to drift off again.   

 

With Jihye slipping back into sleep, Yunho steals his way downstairs to find his father collapsed at the desk, head in his hands and a small pouch sitting in front of him.  

 

“Father?” Yunho’s voice cracks, uncertainty splintering through it when his father does not look at him.  Yunho realizes that the man is crying, strong shoulders shaking minutely as he continues to sit at the desk.  The last time his father cried was when a fever took his mother seven winters ago.  

 

“Father,” Yunho moves closer, kneeling beside the chair, and he reaches slowly to take his father’s hands from his face.  They are cold like ice, and Yunho suppresses a shiver at the touch and the look of utter abandonment in his father’s eyes. 

 

“Yunho, forgive me.” His father squeezes his hands tighter, and Yunho feels the chill of apprehension snatch at him.  

 

“For what? Is it about the ship?”

 

“No, not the ship.”

 

Confused, Yunho looks at the pouch on the table, tossed on top of the letters that have kept them chained for the past three years.  “Then where did that come from?”

 

“It came from the castle,” his father’s voice comes out broken and dead, and the chill in Yunho settles to a bone-deep cold. 

 

“The castle - the castle in the woods?” The tale of the Beast of _Angoulême_ may be local legend, but the woods were dangerous and the castle even more so. Abandoned for nearly two decades by the nobility who once lived there, most likely in ruin, it was a death trap.  Yunho has to believe that his father would not be so foolish, not with Jihye so frail. 

 

“Yes, Yunho,” the confession falls on stunned ears, and Yunho drops his father’s hands as though they burned his skin. 

 

“Why would you go there? You left for the harbor,” Yunho presses, “What of the ship?”

 

“There may as well not have been one.  It was seized to pay our debt to the crown and the company I hired, even though they received payment while we went hungry.  We will never see a _livre_ of its cargo,” his hand twitches toward the pouch in front of him.  “We owe so much, Yunho.” 

 

Yunho looks back at the small pouch on the table, giving it a closer examination.  The string and material are rich and detailed, much too fine for a merchant family of their status.  He realizes what his father must have done at the castle.

 

“You stole this?” He reaches out and takes the sack in hand as he stands, the weight of the coin heavy and accusatory in his palm.  

 

His father flinches, “Yes, I took it.”

 

“How could you?” Yunho had always thought his father to be honest, to be a good man.  Never a thief.  

 

“Because I had no other choice!” Anger rips through his father’s voice, agony a low note beneath it.  “And now I will pay an even greater price for my greed and desperation.” His father moves restlessly to the doorway where his travel bag had been flung down.  He stands over it, and Yunho watches him carefully from his position by the desk, confused by the outburst.  The penalty for stealing would only be a few days in jail, surely nothing more than a stint in the stocks, left to sit in public for a day.   

 

“I’ll talk to Siwon,” Yunho decides.  His friend would help them gain sway with whoever caught his father taking from the old castle, but the suggestion is greeted by silence.  

 

Moments pass before his father speaks again, and when he does his voice has returned to calm resignation as he looks at his son.  “The stories are true, Yunho.” 

 

“Stories?” Yunho cannot hold back a hysterical laugh, “You mean the Beast?” 

 

“Yes, the Beast.  He’s monstrous, everything your sister’s nightmares make him out to be.” 

 

“You saw the Beast?” Yunho tries to make sense of the conversation, but he finds the story incomprehensible, “It’s impossible,” he decides, “You were exhausted.  Your mind was playing tricks on you.” 

 

“No, Yunho,” he father’s voice cracks across the room, anger returning, and it feels like Yunho had been slapped for its sharpness, “He’s real, and I stole from him.  Took what was not mine, and now I must make penance.”

 

“You’re serious.”

 

“I need to return to the castle, and remain there for eight years.  To pay for my crime.”

 

“You can’t,” It seems obvious to Yunho that it would be impossible with Jihye so sick, and he tells his father so. 

 

“She has you,” his father resigns.  

 

Yunho thinks of his job at the mill, the long hours and the pay that’s not enough for two to live on.  They wouldn’t survive.  His father was a part of the community in a way Yunho has not become yet, and eight years would be a long time for someone his father’s age.  

 

“Does it have to be you?” Yunho asks.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Did the Beast,” Yunho only just manages to keep the skepticism from his tone, “say it had to be you? Or as long as it’s _someone_ will it be satisfied?”

 

His father’s eyes widen with dawning realization, “Yunho, I won’t let you.” 

 

“Jihye needs you more than she needs me right now,” Yunho explains, “You have connections, friends that I don’t have.”

 

“What about _your_ friends? Your job?”

 

Yunho snorts, trying to cover the sickening feel of fear in the pit of his stomach.  “Siwon will be fine without me, and the miller can find someone else to work the grind.”

 

His father starts shaking his head, but there is a defeated slope to his shoulders, and Yunho knows now is the moment to push.

 

“Eight years is not that long - I’ll be fine.”

 

“You haven’t seen it,” it is a last attempt from his father to change his mind, “You don’t know what you’re volunteering to do.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter what I know - this is the only option.  Let me go, let me do this for you and Jihye.”  It’s a little cheap, but Yunho can see his father breaking under his stubbornness.  

 

“Take the horse,” his father relents, and Yunho’s victory is nothing but bitter. “You need to reach the castle before sunrise.” 

 

“Of course, thank you.” Yunho nods once, and begins to gather his things for the journey in stunned silence.  

 

* * *

 

“Who does he think he is?” Changmin rages, pacing back and forth in front of the unamused candelabra, claws shredding through a tapestry already in tatters,  “Stealing from this castle, stealing from _me_?”

 

“Sire, you really should calm down,” the ornament sighs, following Changmin’s restless movements from his spot on the table.  

 

“Shut up, Kyuhyun,” Changmin snaps, “If he doesn’t return before sunrise, I’ll burn his home to the ground.” 

 

“I know you will, Sire,” Kyuhyun replies, tone suggesting he didn’t believe a word of it.  Changmin doesn’t like the implication and is about to turn on his friend, when a noise at the gatehouse cracks through the castle.  

 

“I suppose that will be him,” Kyuhyun muses, delight dancing in his voice.  Changmin isn’t entirely certain why Kyuhyun should feel so smug.  The man had been desperate but stupid, stumbling into the castle at night, reaching for anything valuable.  Unfortunately, the first thing he had grabbed was Kyuhyun - who was none too pleased at the handling. 

 

Changmin snarls low in his throat at the memory of the merchant’s terror when he finally laid eyes on him, on the mythical Beast, stumbling backward in the darkness, tripping to get away from the monster.  It used to satisfy Changmin, watching their eyes widen when they realized the story was true, but it had been years since he found any joy in their fear.  Instead, Changmin had demanded that the man return to serve in the castle as punishment for his theft, but had given him the pouch of gold after hearing the man’s story.  There was no reason to let an innocent girl die if it could be helped, but the marquis required compensation.  And a human in the castle would have to do.  

 

Kyuhyun had muttered that he was going soft after letting the man go, so Changmin had set him on a high shelf for the remainder of the night. 

 

Changmin rounds a corner, nearly at the entry, Kyuhyun held up to light the way, only to find a hesitant Minho waiting to head him off.  The hands of his clock-face spin and stutter with nerves, and Changmin growls at the fidgeting.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Sire,” Minho grins, but still too twitchy to put Changmin at ease, “your guest has arrived!”

 

“Where is he?” Changmin insists, noting the way the servant shifts from side to side under his scrutiny. 

 

“Well, you see, there’s something you should know.  It’s like this,” Minho dances around whatever is bothering him, obviously unsure of how the marquis would react and obviously unhappy at being the one to find out precisely.

 

“If I need to ask you again, I’ll remove all of your cogs.”  The threat is essentially empty, but the wolfish edge to Changmin’s voice suffices to spur Minho to action.

 

“Well then, why don’t you just follow me,” Minho shoots Kyuhyun a pleading glance, but Changmin doesn’t bother to put his friend down.  

 

He follows Minho into the entryway and stops just inside the shadows when he spies the figure at the door.  

 

The man is certainly not the same one who had tried to steal from him earlier.  He is much younger to start, and more handsome as well.  His features are elegant but strong, everything graceful slopes and defined lines.   He stands tall against the door, meeting his surroundings with a challenge, refusing to be afraid. 

 

Changmin thinks he could change that. 

 

Still hidden from view, Changmin pulls himself up to his full height of nearly three meters, fangs bared and claws unsheathed.   Slowly he emerges from the shadows, pouring all of his menace and arrogance into the entrance, skulking from the shadows and a growl already rumbling in his throat.  The man seems briefly surprised, mouth dropping to form an “O” as he stares at the sudden appearance of Beast, but he does not cower. 

 

“So you are real,” The man gazes up to watch Changmin’s face, not cowed by his presence.  Kyuhyun snickers from where he is still clutched in Changmin’s paw.  

 

“Who are you?” Changmin tries a different tactic, using his snarling voice to try and intimidate the man. 

 

“Yunho,” the man keeps eye contact, “I’m here on behalf of my father.”

 

“It was your father who stole from me, not you.” Changmin snaps.  He despised surprises and changed plans ever since he was a child, and Yunho is certainly both of those things.

 

“I came in his place.” Yunho takes a step forward into the circle of Kyuhyun’s light, and Changmin is momentarily taken aback at his forwardness - he had become so used to people scrambling to get away from him that Yunho’s approach is entirely unexpected.

 

Curious, he surveys the man.  Yunho is tall, about as tall as his own human form, and he smells intoxicating.  The fur on the back of Changmin’s neck rises as he inhales the scent of pine from the forest caught on Yunho’s clothes and the very human scent of sweat that clings to his skin from the hard ride from the village - so different from the sour smell of fear.

 

Minho coughs pointedly from somewhere close to the ground, and Changmin flinches back from Yunho.  Slightly flustered, he glares down at the man in front of him.  

 

“You came here willingly?” Changmin can’t help the question.  There aren’t many men who would do such a thing, and Changmin would never hold someone against their will, would never hold an unwilling man to someone else’s word. 

 

“Yes,” Yunho sounds surprised as well. “I hope the replacement is alright with you, your...” He trails off, obviously at a loss as to how he should refer to the monster, “uh, Grace?”

 

Changmin snorts, which sounds more like a rough bark, “Call me ‘Sire’ while you are here.” 

 

Yunho raises a brow but nods in acquiescence, glancing around the castle room, eyes landing on Minho. Changmin sees the question in his eyes, and growls low in his throat.  Minho jumps minutely before bowing slightly to the Marquis then addressing Yunho.  

 

“If you will follow me,” Minho gestures to Yunho with one wooden arm, “I will show you to your rooms.” As if he just remembered an important thought, he adds, “Do you read?”

 

Yunho nods, and Minho smiles, pleased with the news. “You will join the Marquis in the library in the morning and in the evening to read.  I’ll take you there after you get settled upstairs.” 

 

“You can’t read?” Yunho asks turning to the Beast, and Changmin ignores the question, turning to leave the room with Kyuhyun held in front of him.  

 

As a child, Changmin had spent hours and hours amongst the books in his father’s library, whiling away years between their pages.  He hadn’t been able to pick one up in nineteen years.  His eyes in this cursed form were never able to focus on the words - too animalistic; the blurred and hazy ink gave him a throbbing headache if he even tried. 

 

“I like him,” Kyuhyun comments, trying to sound casual as he watches Changmin’s face from the corner of his eye.

 

“I don’t care.” 

 

“Whatever you say, Sire.”  

 

Changmin shoves Kyuhyun into an empty sconce and continues on his way to the library, feeling a little better about the entire situation.  

 

* * *

 

Yunho is fairly certain that the Beast had been trying his hardest not to be a complete asshole that evening, but it was a testament to how long he had been alone that it was not enough.  Only one full day had passed, and Yunho already regretted his decision to take his father’s place.  

 

Yunho slams the door to his second floor room behind him, hoping the rattling sound carried back down to the library where he left the monster among his mountains of books and stories.  

 

Earlier in the evening, he had been lead to the library by the small wooden clock after leaving his single travel bag in what was to be his quarters for the next eight years.  It was nicer by far than the one he had left behind, but he was only given a moment before Minho had whisked him away to the library. _That_ room had been larger than his entire home, and it was filled to the ceiling with rolls of parchment and bound leather.  Unsure of what he was meant to do, Yunho had hesitated in the doorway eyes flicking over the shelves before settling on the Beast. 

 

“You can come in, you know,” the monster grumbled from one of the chairs near the fire place, and Yunho’s mouth twisted at the command.

 

He stepped into the room, keeping wary eyes on the Beast and stopped next to a second arm chair.

 

“Choose something,” the Beast gestured at the expanse of books, and Yunho couldn’t help but stare at the pads and claws so unlike a human hand.  If the Beast noticed, he said nothing.

 

With a nod, Yunho went in search of a book, deciding to choose something familiar in the midst of all of the unknowns surrounding him.

 

Now back in his room, away from the library, Yunho sighs as he sits down hard on the simple four-posted bed.  Of course he managed to choose the single story that would set the Beast into a rage.   It had been a script of an old bard’s tale of a murdered father and the orphaned son left to seek revenge - nothing new or exciting - but the Beast had lashed out, sudden and violent.    

 

Yunho glances down at his upper arm where he collided with a shelf in his hasty retreat, grimacing at the way it ached from shoulder to elbow.  He supposes it would bruise, and in the morning he will have a lovely mark to show for his efforts. 

 

With a groan Yunho lays back against the bed, exhausted from the long night.  Yunho grunts as he rearranges himself on top of the bed, body protesting the movements now that it was lying prone and on a comfortable mattress.  He craves rest and lets his eyes drift closed.  

 

A knock on the door waylays the desire, and Yunho clenches his eyes shut tightly as though his persistence would make the knocker disappear.   

 

“Master Yunho?” Minho’s voice calls from the other side, and Yunho decides to stay on the bed.  

 

“What?” he keeps his eyes closed, hoping the time piece will go away when he realizes Yunho has no intention of being hospitable.  

 

“The Marquis would request that you return to the library.” 

 

Yunho tries his best, but he doesn’t manage to keep the burst of hilarity contained, laughter echoing rudely through the stone room, “You can tell him that I will do no such thing, and that I will see him in the morning.” 

 

“But, sir,” Minho protests but does not enter the room.  He probably can’t reach the latch, now that Yunho thinks about it, “You are required, by the terms of your father’s -” 

 

At that moment, Yunho does not care what his father promised. “Minho,” he cuts off the servant’s rambling, “I am not going back down tonight.  You can tell the Marquis that I will not let him yell at me like he’s a spoiled child - I am not his nanny.  I will remain here in the castle, but I won’t put myself in danger just for his entertainment.” 

 

After a moment’s quiet, he hears Minho reply that he will say as much to the Marquis. As the sound of Minho’s retreat fades, Yunho burrows under the blankets and tries to breathe deeply and evenly, hoping he can trick his body into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Changmin tosses the parchment into the roaring fireplace, furious with the content of the pages.   He should have gotten rid of it years ago.  He watches the edges of the paper curl and burn and fall away with satisfaction, his anger dissipating as the story turns to ash.  The fire licks its way to the center, and Changmin nearly misses Minho’s return, not noticing him until he is practically standing on his foot.  

 

“Sire,” Minho clears his throat, but Changmin looks towards the entry way, expecting Yunho to follow at any moment.  

 

“Sire,” Minho insists, and Changmin tears his eyes from the doorway to stare down at his servant.  Minho starts again, looking slightly apprehensive under the new attention.  “Sire, I am here to tell you that Master Yunho will not be returning this evening.” 

 

Changmin’s anger is bright and quick, flaring instantaneously, “What do you mean he’s not returning? I told him to come back down to the library!” 

 

Minho shuffles from wooden leg to wooden leg, “Ah yes, well, he has refused your request.  He said that he is not your nanny, and you cannot yell at him like that.” 

 

Changmin bares his teeth, a roar starting in the depths of his chest, but Kyuhyun’s fits of laughter from the table cut him off.

 

“What’s so damn funny?” Changmin rounds on his friend, unleashing his roar on the candelabra instead.  

 

“Nothing, Sire,” Kyuhyun continues to laugh, bright and unbridled even in the face of Changmin’s rage, “I am simply pleased to see you two getting along so splendidly.” 

 

“Splendid?” Changmin growls, “He’s in his room sulking because I gave him a fright! What’s so splendid about that?”

 

Kyuhyun manages to calm himself, and straightens the candle in his left holder before turning back to look at Changmin.  “You know, perhaps you should think about whether it was just a fright.  You broke all of the mirrors about eight years ago, so it’s been a long while since you have seen yourself.”  

 

Changmin huffs, “He’s just being difficult.” 

 

“No,” Kyuhyun snaps, “You’re the one being difficult, Changmin.” From the floor behind him, Changmin hears Minho stifle an exclamation.  “You’re so angry and bitter and you’re going to drive him away and leave us all like this forever. It’s been nineteen years - how many more chances do you think you’re going to get to break this curse?”

 

Changmin opens his mouth and promptly closes it because there is nothing to say.  He does not have many more chances - in fact, he should be thankful he got this one.  With only year left before the curse becomes permanent, he should be groveling and courting Yunho, but instead he chokes on his pride when the moment comes.

 

Chastised by his friend, Changmin sits in the chair and looks back into the flames, promising, “I’ll try harder.”

 

* * *

 

Yunho wakes, unsure when he finally managed to drift off into sleep what with the throbbing in his arm and roiling regret in his chest, but he knows he must have slept at some point.  

 

He knows this because there is a man sitting in the wooden chair in the corner who was not there before - half hidden by shadow but obvious enough.  Yunho tries to blink him away, sure the shape is a remnant of a dream, but the man remains. 

 

Yunho sits up, eyes never leaving the intruder, “Who are you?” It seems the obvious first question, but the man volunteers nothing.  Yunho guesses it to be a man based on broad shoulders and lack of curves, but he sits in complete stillness, preventing Yunho from gleaming anything else about him. 

 

On edge, Yunho tries again, “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Typically, Yunho is a light sleeper, years of listening for Jihye’s cries training him to wake to soft sounds.  It would have been nearly impossible for the man to open the heavy, poorly oiled door without disturbing him. 

 

The man shifts back in his seat, looking more relaxed, but it does nothing to put Yunho at ease. 

 

“You can call me Max, and it has been a very long time since someone like you has been here.” The man mutters, voice low and wondering, and his vague comments irritate Yunho further.  

 

“What are you talking about?” Yunho snaps, rising from the bed and trying to decide whether he should rush the stranger in front of him or break for the door at his back.  The room is cripplingly dark, no candles and no moonlight to provide any relief for the shadows.  Yunho has no idea how strong the man was, and he does not like the idea of starting a fight he wasn’t sure he could win.  He starts to back away, sliding quietly across the bed towards the door. 

 

“You don’t need to worry about running away from me,” the man named Max says, “I am not going to hurt you.  Everyone has been waiting a long time for something like this to happen.”

 

Yunho freezes.  “You’ve been waiting for an old fool to try to steal from the castle, so you could gain an indentured servant?”  It must have amused Max because suddenly the room is filled with loud, warm laughter.  The clarity and genuine heart behind it catches Yunho off guard, leaving him slightly dazed at the wonderful sound.  

 

“Perhaps that’s exactly what we were waiting for,” the intruder chuckles, “But it doesn’t really matter.” The voice trails off regretfully as the man shifts forward once again, as though he is trying to memorize Yunho through the darkness. “The time of this dream is over, and I must go.”  It is by far one of the strangest explanations Yunho has ever heard, but he does not have the chance to question the man before he slips back into the darkness of sleep.  It is almost as though he were never disturbed. 

 

He wakes rested in the morning with the sound of the man’s laughter playing lightly in his mind.    Confused, Yunho tries to shake off the dream, disturbed by its clarity and the persistence with which it lingers into the morning and even days after.  

 


	3. The Western Tower

The tower is cold like the air outside, and Yunho’s anger feels too hot inside his chest.  He opens doors and roams rooms restlessly, fuming at the Beast once again. 

 

“Monster,” Yunho growls as he continues to climb the stone steps, exploring corners of the castle he had not ventured into over the last few months, thrumming with restless energy after the disastrous breakfast.  The tower he found himself in was dusty, with only a smattering of rooms to search through - most of them empty, others home to broken trinkets and furniture.  He lost count of the stairs he climbed, the sound of his boots loud in the empty stone tunnel.  His muscled ached and his mind fogged as he continued to let angry thoughts get the best of him.

 

As time had passed after his arrival, Yunho found himself settling into the routine of the castle, and into a routine of sorts with the Beast.   Days are spent quietly, the castle life surprisingly dull even with the strange object-servants that move about the rooms and occasionally send Yunho surreptitious glances that are entirely unsettling.  Although, not as unsettling as the dreams he continues to have.  

 

They are irregular in occurrence, but rarely a week goes by without the stranger making an appearance in his sleep.  Yunho gets better at picking out features - a strong nose and beautiful mouth are the most impressed on him, but he can never remember what they talk about upon waking.  Yunho’s frustration grows with each quickly fading image because the only other conversations he has are with the Beast. 

 

They have grown slowly familiar, even cordial on some occasions.  Reading in the morning and in the evening became pleasant, the Beast choosing the tales after the first night, and listening quietly as Yunho spoke aloud.  There are days where it lasts only a short while, and others when it goes on for hours.    

 

And then are days like this one where Yunho can hardly stand the sight of the creature. 

 

“Have you ever sat at a table in your life?” The Beast mocks Yunho over breakfast.  He is surly and ill tempered, and Yunho is not looking forward to reading after the meal.  

 

“Sire?” Yunho tries not to clench his teeth and responds to the taunt as politely as he can manage.

 

“You’re using the wrong spoon, idiot village boy!” Comes the snarl, unnecessarily cruel.  “Did you learn your manners in the gutter?” 

 

“No,” it’s impossible not to grind his teeth, and Yunho places the wrong spoon down and surveys the setting in front of him.  There are two other spoons, and he has no idea which is which. 

 

The monster sees his struggle and snorts with unconcealed derision. “If you can’t behave properly then please excuse yourself from my presence.” 

 

“Behave properly?” Yunho feels the anger snapping through him like a whip, back straightening at the daring words from across the table. “You think _I’m_ misbehaving?”

 

“Obviously.” 

 

“Well in that case,” Yunho pushed his chair back with a hideous scrape, “I am more than happy to leave. I hope not all nobility are such bastards,” throwing the words at the Beast, Yunho abandons him to wander through the castle, eventually finding himself in the tower on the western side. 

 

A door sits demurely at the top of the tower, and Yunho leans against the wall to briefly catch his breath after the climb.  It is old and wooden, darkened over the years with the metal slightly discoloring at hinges and handle, but it opens smoothly at his touch.  With a curious push, it swings inwards, silent but for the sound of it scraping against the stone floors.  Peering into the dimly lit room, Yunho frowns at its emptiness.  Taking a disappointed step into space reveals it to be noticeably cleaner than the others he has come across - there’s almost no dust coating the floor, and the curtains are kept and hanging neatly. 

 

A small round table sits in the corner of the room, a cover hanging over a dome-shaped object.  Yunho’s foot steps sound muffled in the small room as he crosses the dark space, eyes never leaving the table.  Carefully, Yunho removes the dark cloth and gives a startled little exhale at finding a single rose displayed beneath a glass case.  It stands upright in a simple purpose vase, narrow and tall, contrasting with the lush redness of the rose it contains.  Yunho cannot help but feel sad at the sight of the flower, the petals fully opened and bright red, but the edges are beginning to curl, a few falling on to the table top beneath it. It looks like it is starting to die. 

 

“What an odd place for a flower,” Yunho mutters, glancing around at the lack of sunlight and the blankness of the room.  Making his decision, Yunho moves to the window and pulls open the coverings, letting the late morning sunlight stream into the room, spilling over the glass case and onto the table.  “You could probably use some fresh air too,” Yunho muses, but something on the opposite wall catches his eye before he can remove the dome.  

 

A gorgeous portrait hangs on the wall across from the window, nearly as long as Yunho is tall and masterfully wrought.  The painting shows three people - a tall serious man, a young beautiful woman, and a small child.  All watch Yunho from the canvas, poised and frozen in time.   

 

Moving closer, it becomes obvious to Yunho they were a family - the man’s hand resting protectively on the woman’s shoulder and the young boy clinging to her skirts, eyes wide.  She’s the center of the painting, Yunho notes.  The artist had taken extra care in capturing her face, the soft smile as she rests her hand on her child, warm and doting.  

 

Yunho looks more carefully at the young boy, a niggling sense of familiarity pulling at the back of his mind.  Something around the shape of the nose and ears recalls someone, but the memory is too shadowy for him to remember.  The plaque at the bottom of the portrait names them as the Marquis and his family, but that cannot be right.  Yunho frowns at the thought of the Beast having a family, of having a wife and child, and tries to reconcile the short tempered monster with the controlled man in the painting. 

 

He reaches out a hand to brush against the canvas when he’s stopped by a voice near the still open door. 

 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” A low growl threatens. 

 

“Exploring,” Yunho replies, refusing to be cowed by the Beast’s temper - he can feel his own simmering just beneath the surface, still edgy after the mistreatment at breakfast. “I’m sorry - you didn’t specify that I was confined to my room.”  He’s sure the Beast could hear the lilt of insincerity in his voice. 

 

The monster growls louder, but says nothing, turning towards the open curtain where he sees the uncovered rose, illuminated beneath its glass case.  He goes absolutely still and continues to stare at the flower, like he had seen a monster himself. 

 

For a moment, nervousness flutters in the pit of Yunho’s stomach as he watches the Beast’s reaction, confused by his sudden intensity. 

 

“Plants need sunlight,” Yunho comments, trying to sound off hand and unconcerned, but he continues to study the Beast with a wary gaze.  

 

“Sunlight,” the Beast chokes out, broad shoulders shaking and claws clenching before rounding on Yunho suddenly, eyes wide and blazing with emotions too anarchic for Yunho to categorize. He takes a step backwards as he’s struck by the Beast’s size once again.  They’re usually always sitting together - at  the dining table, in the library - and he’d forgotten just how towering the creature really is as it rises above him. 

 

But turning from the rose brings the Beast face to face with the portrait once again, and the painting pulls something loose, and Yunho stares as a still rage washes over the monster with a jolt of terror. 

 

“If you ever,” the Beast’s voice is quiet, quivering with the force of his anger - and it’s more unsettling than the days where he roars. “Come into this room again, disturb my things, touch what is not yours - I will lock you in the dungeons for the rest of your years of servitude.” 

 

“You can’t-” Yunho starts to protest.

 

“I _can’t_?” The Beast mocks, voice rough and growling and more animalistic than Yunho has ever heard it.  “I’m the lord of this castle, I can do whatever I please.”  He moves closer to Yunho, trying to corner him against the stone wall.  “Who would stop me? Kyuhyun? Minho? If I want to lock you away for seven years, then I will.  The only light you’ll see will be from the torches, and the only door you’ll care about is the one barring you in.” 

 

The Beast is out of his mind, Yunho grasps as he spins away from the wall and heads for the open door.  He can’t stay, not a moment longer, and he tears down the winding stairway and sprints out into the entrance hall.  

 

Minho sees him.  “Sire, what’s going on? Do you need assistance?”

 

“The only assistance I need,” Yunho breathes hard, heart hammering as he gathers his coat from off a chest, “is with that door.  I’m leaving.” 

 

“But, Sire,” the clock looks struck, “you can’t leave! You made a promise!”

 

“No,” Yunho bites back, “my father made a promise.  I’m not staying here with him, with that monster.  Not for seven years, not for another day.  He’ll kill me or lock me up soon enough, and I won’t wait around to give him a chance.” 

 

Panic flashes across Minho’s face, and he scrambles towards Yunho and pulls on the bottom of his long winter cloak. “Sire, you must know that he would never do that! You’re not in danger.” 

 

“I’m not taking the chance.”  Whisking his coat away out of Minho’s grip with a sharp yank, Yunho heaves against the heavy entry door, and braces himself against the ice wind as it opens to the chilled winter.  

 

“You’ll freeze!” Minho attempts desperately. “You’ll never make it to your village.”

 

“I don’t care,” Yunho feels hesitation at the back of his throat, but pushes it down, “I’d rather die in the open than rot in a cage like an animal.”  The cold day’s air brushes his face as he leaves and heads east.  

 

* * *

 

Changmin lets Yunho go, knowing he’ll never see the young man again when he disappears down the tower stairs.  Disappointment curdles the anger in his stomach until he’s sick with it, and he leaves the tower with more hatred for the room with the cursed flower than he ever thought possible.  They’ve been dead for so long, but thoughts of his mother and father still bring out the worst in him, and he continues to pay the price. 

 

The castle is silent as he makes his way back down to the large entry, not surprised when Minho and Kyuhyun are waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“He’s left!” Minho looks panicked, hands fluttering about like they want to fly away.  

 

“I know.”

 

“You _know_?”

 

“Yes,” Changmin sighs, “of course he did.” 

 

“What happened?” Kyuhyun cuts in, voice steady if slightly accusatory. 

 

“He found them,” he looks down at his friends to see dawning comprehension.

 

“And you lost your head, didn’t you?” The candelabra keeps his voice level, but Changmin can hear the cold edge to it.  It’s the tone Kyuhyun’s mother would use whenever Changmin would act out as a child, breaking something or making outrageous demands simply because he could. 

 

Changmin doesn’t answer because he doesn’t need to, all three of them know precisely what happened when Yunho found the portrait. 

 

Kyuhyun sighs, “Just as well.  There was never any hope to begin with.  Only a handful of months left until this becomes permanent, what could we expect from you and that poor man?”

 

The guilt radiates something like nausea through Changmin’s entire body, a sickly hot-cold that pulses from his stomach. “Where did he go?”

 

“Home,” Minho’s energy has gone flat, resignation obvious, “he went east.” 

 

“East?” Eastward lies the village, but also a frozen lake - large and hidden in the winter snow, and Changmin’s decision is made in a heartbeat.

 

“I’m going after him,” Changmin moves towards the door, but he’s stopped by Kyuhyun’s voice.

 

“You think that’s wise?”

 

“I won’t... I’m not going to,” Changmin searches for the words, hand resting against the worn wood of the door, “I’m not going to drag him back.  I’m going to make sure he makes it safely.” 

 

“You’re going to what?” The frank disbelief makes Changmin smile begrudgingly.  

 

“He doesn’t deserve to die because I couldn’t control my temper.  I won’t approach him unless there’s real danger.” And without bothering to wait for any more comments of surprise, he makes his way into the cold air, shading his eyes against the sunlight brighter for all the snow. 

 

* * *

 

Yunho curses as he sinks nearly thigh-deep into a snow bank and blinks back the blinding brightness of the sunlight glancing off the all-white surfaces of the ground.  He’s starting to shiver from dampened clothes and biting wind, and he has no idea how close he is to the village.  He should have stolen a horse from the stable - or at the very least taken is own - but he had been too angry and too terrified to stay long enough.  

 

He forces himself forward because he has no desire to go back.  “He’d lock you away if you even tried,” he mutters into the air.  

 

Still cursing under his breath, Yunho continues, only thinking about home and seeing his family.  He wonders absently how Jihye is doing, and whether or not the miller would take him back.  His thoughts stray and he veers slightly southwards, coming into a snow covered clearing.  Quite a large one, Yunho notes as he continues on with his trek. 

 

He pauses when he hears a crack from beneath his feet, a crack much too loud to be a twig buried in the snow.  Another cautious step, followed by another sound of breaking.  Yunho stands still, combing his brain for anything he remembers about the way to the castle.  The ride had been dark, and Yunho was distracted but he tries to think.  Another crack.  An inky black surface, and the damp smell of water comes to him when he finally remembers, and he freezes completely.

 

The lake.  How could he forget the lake? Fear pulls at the corner of Yunho’s heart, but he pushes it down knowing it won’t help, knowing he has to _do something_.  Taking deep even breaths, Yunho tries to spread his weight out by taking a wider stance, and sliding more slowly across the surface, calming down minutely when no noise follows the movements.

 

He tries to keep to the edges, or at least where he thinks the edges are - it’s hard to tell with everything covered by snow.  He slides his left foot forward again, and halts as he feels the ground shift underneath him, the snow sinking lower as the ice beneath it cracks and gives way.  Yunho feels himself tipping off balance as the noise continues around him, and the crackling threatens to swallow him whole. 

 

* * *

 

Changmin reaches the forest’s edge just as Yunho pitches forward, falling on top of the frozen surface.  Their eyes meet for a brief moment as Changmin emerges from the trees, Yunho’s wide with surprise, and his mouth works to form words before he’s cut off by another jarring crack.  

 

The sound of ice snapping is sharp in the air, splitting through the cold wind, and Changmin runs, dropping to all fours as he tries to reach Yunho.  

 

“Stop!” Yunho shouts as the frozen surface shudders beneath him, and Changmin lunges desperately, but is a half length too late. Yunho submerges with a startled gasp, disappearing into to dark water beneath the ice, and Changmin’s claws close on empty air, where Yunho’s shoulder had been only moments before. 

 

“No,” he breathes, and plunges his arm into the hole in the ice, hoping he’s quick enough, that Yunho isn’t flailing, that he can still be reached.  Something brushes the back of his paw, and he closes a fist around it, hauling Yunho and his heavy winter coat out of the freezing lake water.   The ice gives another ominous snap beneath their weight, and Changmin runs them both off the precarious surface before they can both be dragged down. 

 

“Are you alright?” Changmin barks, setting Yunho down on the ground. 

 

“You-” Yunho’s voice, his entire body, shakes, hands red from the cold, dark hair sticking to pale skin and obscuring his face.  Changmin wrestles with the urge to brush it away, instead settling for pulling the soaking cloak off Yunho’s shoulders.  Yunho doesn’t fight it, limbs slack from shock and breathing erratic. 

 

“We need to get you back to the castle,” Changmin says, and he moves to pick Yunho back up, but the young man lurches away unsteadily. 

 

“I’m not going back,” he’s adamant, but Changmin’s had twenty years of solitude to hone his stubbornness.  Without waiting for permission this time, he grabs Yunho and hoists him off his feet, setting off for the castle with a shivering Yunho cursing him and struggling in his hold.  

 

“You won’t make it to the village - we need to get you warm.” 

 

“God damn it, put me down!” Yunho curses and struggles, but the cold wind and wet clothes make his shaking worse and he’s already exhausted.  But his fighting doesn’t subside, and it makes Changmin almost smile, a twist of his mouth that is likely terrifying to behold. 

 

“I am well aware I’m damned,” Changmin mutters, carrying Yunho easily back through the forest, “But I’m not going to let you die.” 

 

Yunho is weak and nearly unconscious once they reach the castle door.  Kyuhyun is waiting for them, the flames at the end of each candle twitching in nervous irritation, but go still when he sees Yunho shaking in Changmin’s hold. 

 

“The lake?” The candelabra is already trying to hop up the stairs, and Changmin reaches down to carry him the rest of the way.

 

“Yes, he fell through, but he wasn’t under more than a moment.”

 

“Obviously that’s a moment too long,” Kyuhyun snaps waspishly, “What were you thinking?”

 

“I wasn’t!” Changmin hauls Yunho up into one of the bathrooms yelling for a hot bath to be drawn and waiting impatiently as servants scamper to fulfill the request.  “I wasn’t thinking about you or the curse or anyone else! I know!”

 

“This isn’t about the curse!” Kyuhyun hisses, “He could have died, Changmin! He could have died because you’re still too angry and selfish, and you don’t even see it!”

 

The accusations burn, and Changmin gapes.  “Of course I see that.  Why do you think I was going to let him go?” 

 

“I don’t know anymore, Changmin, I don’t know what you’re thinking about anymore.  I don’t think I have for years.” 

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“What’s not fair,” Kyuhyun watches as Changmin lowers Yunho into the hot water, clothes and all, “Is that this poor boy is still stuck here with a monster like you, and it seems like there’s nothing he can do to change that.” 

 

* * *

 

 _Warm_.

 

Yunho pulls the heavy fur blankets closer to him as another shudder wracks his body.  The fire place in the library blazes and orange-gold light licks up stone walls, casting a soft dancing brightness around the room as the Beast watches him carefully from the other chair.  Yunho burrows further into this cocoon, slightly awkward under the gaze.   The animal eyes of the Beast are always unsettling, but Yunho is made more uncomfortable by the shine of regret that covers their golden irises now.  

 

“I’m sorry,” the apology is gravelly and cumbersome, like the monster isn’t used to the words.

 

“For scaring me or saving me?” He can’t help but ask, and a small piece of his mind screams to run, run, run.  But he tamps down on the urge, because the rest of him wants to know, is morbidly fascinated by the Beast sitting before him. 

 

“I was going to let you go,” the fire crackles and Yunho watches as the Beast shifts restlessly in his chair, “I wouldn’t have touched you if you hadn’t fallen through.” 

 

“You weren’t there just to bring me back?” 

 

“No, I wanted to make sure you were safely returned home.” The Beast shuts his mouth, and struggles against his own awkwardness, “I’m sorry for how I behaved earlier.” 

 

Yunho opts for silence and waits for the monster to continue, but surprise tightens the corners of his mouth at the apology. 

 

“The people in the painting you found in the tower - that’s my family.  Or was my family - my mother and my father.  She died when I was a boy, and my father left looking for revenge.” Old sadness creases the Beast’s features in an expression Yunho has seen on his own face when Jihye would be too restless and his mother’s absence was particularly sharp.  

 

“And your father?” Yunho ventures.  

 

“I only saw him once more before he died as well - on some battle field near the coast.” Claws scratch into the fabric of the chair, pulling threads as a strange expression twists the creature’s features, “I always wondered if he left so that he could keep thinking of me as a boy, so he could keep me like that in his mind forever.”  Loneliness laces through the words, giving them a staleness that pulls sympathy from Yunho.

 

It’s difficult to imagine that the small child in the painting is the same soul as the huge creature before him.  Yunho tries to picture him that way - young and vulnerable.  It’s nearly impossible, but there’s something painfully human about the defensive curl of the Beast’s shoulders and the stuttered emotions flashing across his monstrous face.  And as he keeps talking - telling Yunho everything about growing up alone and abandoned - it slowly becomes easier to comprehend even as it grows more fantastic.  Yunho suspects that perhaps there’s more to the legend of Beast of Angoulême than simply the wild imaginations of hungry bards, but doesn’t ask. Yunho doesn’t want to know if it’s a curse or a penance or something darker entirely that transmuted this poor boy into a monster.  

 

But Yunho does interrupt when something small but important is left out of the story.  

 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly, catching the Beast off guard.  

 

“You don’t know my name?” The note of petulance has Yunho smiling sheepishly as he shakes his head.

 

A smile, or something like one, curls the Beast’s lips, “You’ve been here for a full season, sat with me at meals and read me one hundred stories, but have never known my name?”

 

Yunho squirms, guilt a little pull behind his navel, “You never told me!  And it’s not like I could ask you.  The only reasons you’re not angry now is because I nearly died this afternoon,” he points out, and tries not to laugh at the expression on the monster’s face.  Amusement and annoyance pull at the animalistic features, painting a picture for once more comical than terrifying. 

 

“Changmin,” the Beast tells him, “my name is Changmin.”

 

“Thank you for saving me, Changmin,” Yunho allows himself a small grin, truly thankful that someone was there to help him when he fell through the ice, “And I’m sorry about your family and for all of the other things you’ve decided not to tell me.”

 

“Thank you,” Changmin watches Yunho carefully again, “But it was a long time ago, and I should never have acted that way.  I am sorry - it won’t happen again.” 

 

“I will leave the moment it does,” Yunho reassures him, voice clear and a promise evident in his tone, “Please do not doubt that.”  Changmin can only nod his acquiescence and dismiss Yunho back to his room, where Yunho goes gratefully.  He craves sleep and rest after such a long, difficult day.  

 

* * *

 

That night the cold settles into the castle’s rooms, sharp and metallic as it buries itself beneath Yunho’s skin.  The fire at the foot of the bed is still burning, but Yunho shivers beneath the heavy blankets, and tosses restlessly, until exhaustion numbs the chill and pulls him closer to the edge of consciousness.  Yunho welcomes the blankness and relaxes into it. 

 

“Why did you decide to stay?” A now familiar voice reaches him from the chair in the corner, like it has on other nights though none have been as cold as this one.  

 

Yunho reluctantly sits up, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders to keep away the chill that has followed him into his dream, and he surveys the man across from him.  It’s odd, Yunho thinks, that a dream should vary so greatly yet so little all at once.  He’s clearer than before, the firelight throwing his features into the sharpest focus yet. 

 

“He brought me back,” Yunho counters, picking at the furs spread across his bed. 

 

“No,” Max man leans forward in his seat, large brown eyes dancing with something bright and excited, “you decided to stay.” 

 

“I decided to stay,” Yunho echoes, watching the oranges and warm hues of the flames flicker across handsome features and long brown hair.  It’s not the first time Yunho’s wondered at how his subconscious could dream up someone so strangely beautiful.  The too-wide mouth fitting perfectly beneath an arched nose and strong eyes.  Yunho feels heat flush through him and tries to tell himself it’s the fire’s doing. 

 

“Tell me why,” the young man presses.

 

“He saved me,” Yunho shrugs, unsure how to put into words the tangle of emotions he felt when the Beast - when Changmin - had pulled him out of the lake he was certain would be his grave. 

 

“And?” A smile twists the edges of the Max’s mouth, pushing Yunho for more. 

 

“I still need to pay my father’s debt.”

 

“Liar,” he sits back, smile now a wide slash across his face, displaying pretty white teeth and a sense of surety that’s both irritating and endearing to Yunho. 

 

“Because,” Yunho huffs, shoving his hair away from his face to buy himself a moment, “I feel like I need to be here.  I think I can do something for him.  He’s so lonely and angry, and no one should have to live like that.  Everyone should have a friend - not just servants, a _friend_.  And I think he wants to try to become someone worth that kind of care.” 

 

Silence follows the rushed declaration, and Yunho can see in the firelight that Max is blushing, eyes wide and mouth snapped shut. 

 

“What?” Yunho snaps, uncomfortable with the stare and the reaction.  “You don’t think so?”

 

“I think,” Max settles further back into the chair, but his gaze is no less intense, “I think you’re something entirely special, Yunho.  And I don’t think that the Beast deserves you.” 

 

“ _Changmin_ ,” Yunho emphasizes his name, annoyance cutting through his tone, “deserves a chance just like everyone else does.” 

 

“If you say so,” Max waves his hand in front of him, but a smile has returned, and Yunho swallows against the surge of nervousness that accompanies the expression.   He feels shivery as the man continues to watch him contemplatively, and Yunho wrestles with the strange attraction that had been incrementally growing over these months.  It’s pathetic, having feelings like this for a figment of his imagination, but stranger things have happened to Yunho in his very recent past.  

 

“Who are you?” It’s not the first time the question is asked, and Yunho hopes with the same optimism that tonight he will get an answer. 

 

“This is your dream,” Max replies, “Shouldn’t you know?” 

 

Yunho has no response, wondering the same thing himself.  

 

“Good night, Yunho,” Max whispers, warm and affectionate, and Yunho falls into a deep, rejuvenating sleep.  Much too soon, he’s woken by obnoxious calls for breakfast.  Yunho finds them less irritating than he had in the previous months and wonders if the castle could yet be a home to him. 

 


	4. The Letter

Winter thaws slowly, the cold fingers of frost and ice fighting to keep their grip as spring pries the trees and meadows free, breathing green life back into the area around the castle.  Changmin seems to thaw as well, growing less temperamental, more _human_ as the season changes, and Yunho finds himself spending more time around the Beast beyond meals and their ritualistic reading. 

 

Soon, they spend the days outside, wandering the grounds together.  Changmin occasionally offering up a story to Yunho from his childhood.  Most of them involve Kyuhyun or Minho or the kitchen boy Reowook, who Yunho has only met twice - the boy-turned-ladle who is terse and particular, and Yunho avoids him most of the time.

 

“One afternoon the four of us made a mess of the garden,” Changmin recalls, prowling alongside the eastern castle wall, Yunho keeping step alongside him, “We were terrors - destroyed the beautiful Lilies of the Valley so we could make forts and ditches for our games.” Changmin’s mouth twists like he’s holding in a laugh, and Yunho can’t help but smile along with him. “Minho couldn’t have been more than three.  I think we made him eat dirt that day too.”

 

“Did you get into trouble?” Yunho teases, watching the way Changmin stands straighter, anger and sadness losing their hold as he indulges in the memory. 

 

“So much,” Changmin confirms, grotesque features pleasant for once as he reminisces, eye flickering to life with humor.  “I was the only one spared a lashing - nobility and all,” he confides, still unapologetic and looking spectacularly smug for a monster, and Yunho can no longer keep the laughter at bay.  The loud, shocking noise bursts from him in heaving peals that echo through the empty grounds, startling birds and Changmin alike. 

 

“It’s not that funny,” Changmin pouts, side-eying Yunho, which only makes Yunho laugh harder. 

 

Finally managing to calm down, Yunho looks around, “So where is this garden then?”

 

Changmin gestures to a gnarled tangle of brambles and vines alongside the castle, “It’s right here.”

 

It looks nothing like the enchanted place Changmin had described in his little stories, and Yunho feels an inexplicable sense of sadness at the sight of things dead and overgrown - left to fend for themselves without any care.  But after a few moments of contemplation, he has what he thinks is a brilliant idea.

 

“Let’s fix it.”

 

“Fix- What?” Changmin turns to him, disbelief obvious in his voice and the wideness of his eyes.

 

“It’s spring - the perfect time for new beginnings,” Yunho grins, mind racing with plans and determination as he scans the plots of land, “We can replant the Lilies of the Valley, and rose bushes and anything else we can manage.”  His hands itch with work to be done, and Changmin stares at him, stuck somewhere between amusement and horror as Yunho continues to grin.

 

“It’ll be great,” he encourages, a pleading note to his voice, pushing out his lower lip in an expression that has gotten his way more than once. 

 

“It will be a mess,” Changmin protests, glancing at the task with trepidation.  

 

“Yeah, but it will still be great,” Yunho knows he has Changmin won over already.  The twist to Changmin’s mouth and slant to his shoulders are exactly the same as when Yunho manages to convince him to pick a light-hearted romance instead of yet another hideously boring historical account from the library for their reading session.  Changmin isn’t all that terrible, Yunho’s found - he just needs a little attention. 

 

“I’ll let the groundskeeper know,” Changmin sighs and trudges back to the castle, Yunho following behind him and nearly skipping with the small victory.   Changmin waves him off and disappears into a small building, built up against the forest line.  It takes only a few moments for Changmin to return with a few pieces of paper, which Yunho takes without question.  

 

“So where is this groundskeeper?” Yunho asks, turning back to the garden in question.  Weeds had snarled the life out of the flowerbeds, and the hedges and shrubs were practically trees by this point, but Yunho thinks it can be reversed with a little bit of care and a lot of patience. 

 

“He turned into a shovel,” Changmin shrugs his massive shoulders, like this is something that could happen to anyone. 

 

“Oh,” Yunho blinked twice, managing to hold back a silly grin, “Well that’s a good excuse I suppose.” 

 

“You suppose,” Changmin half mocks back, and Yunho elects to ignore him, focusing instead on the records Changmin had unearthed - nearly twenty years old by their date.  It lists and describes what the garden once was, and Yunho tries to picture how they could make it into something beautiful again. 

 

“Well, we are going to put it back in order.  A little dedication and a little love is all it’ll take,” Yunho decides, once again surveying the tangled mass of leaves and vines surrounding the outer wall of the castle, but now with the excitement of having something to do outside boosting his mood.  

 

“Do you know anything about gardening?” Changmin sounds like he already knows the answer - tone droll, and Yunho sends him a sheepish grin.

 

“Not really, that had always been my sister’s area,” he thinks about Jihye and her talent for all things gentle and alive, and a moment of crippling longing leaves Yunho breathless, the weight of just how much he _misses_ his sister too much all of a sudden.  It must show on his face because before he can register movement, Changmin is right there, so much closer than he was a moment ago.  

 

His great paw hovers just above Yunho’s shoulder, but it never touches him.  Changmin is still so unsure, and it adds to Yunho’s heartbreak.  It had been ages since someone touched Yunho - a hug, a pat on the back, anything - and he cannot imagine how much worse it is for Changmin, how many years he has lived without any kind of simple affections. 

 

Without thinking, Yunho reaches out and curls his fingers into the heated fur at Changmin’s upper arm, anchoring himself there.  He expected it to be coarse and harsh; instead, it’s smooth like silk, running through his fingers effortlessly as he brushes them slowly up to the ridge of Changmin’s shoulder.  In a moment of brief madness, Yunho thinks about pressing in closer, burying his face in the warmth and letting it surround him for a short time.  But that would be ridiculous, so he contents himself with this touch. 

 

Changmin stiffens under the contact, entire body strung hard with tension, like he expects Yunho to do something mean, to twist his hand and pull harshly, but he gathers himself when it fails to happen.  “We can do this later,” Changmin decides briskly, eyes wary and watching as  Yunho nods, withdrawing his hand. It’s hard to ignore the way the comfortable warmth lingers around his fingers for the rest of the afternoon.

 

“Later” turns out to mean the next morning, when Yunho drags Changmin back outside after their morning read, armed with a volume on plants he found in the sprawling library.  

 

“Start pulling,” Yunho directs, pointing at a plant the tome identifies as a weed, and much to his surprise, Changmin listens. Crouching down on the ground, Changmin looks almost cute with his great body curled in on itself as he concentrates on only pulling out the unwanted plants, rather than the much desired flowers.  Yunho watches for a moment before joining Changmin on the ground, working alongside the Beast to clear out a corner of the wall, only stopping when his legs cramp or when his stomach demands feeding.  

 

Changmin doesn’t complain for once.  

 

At the end of the day, Yunho is covered in dirt and exhausted, but he feels fantastic.  

 

“I think we made some good progress,” he beams at their little corner, “But we can do better tomorrow.”

 

Changmin groans and sits on the ground, clawed feet sticking out, and Yunho laughs at the pouting monster.  

 

It takes all of two weeks, and the two of them work side-by-side for long hours during the day.  Sometimes they talk, but most of the time they toil in silence - the only sounds the light huff of Yunho’s breaths as he uproots a particularly stubborn weed or Changmin’s low growl as thorns and leaves mat his fur. 

 

Yunho’s surprised at his own disappointment when they reach the opposite end of the wall, every weed they can spot cleared out, and the only thing left to do is plant the new seeds.  He’s not sure what to do when they no longer have the garden to work on, what ways he’ll find to spend more time with Changmin and watch him bloom like he has continued to do.

 

“Let’s start on different sides,” Changmin scouts the plots, thoughtful look in his animal eyes.

 

“And see who covers more ground when we meet in the middle,” Yunho suggests, trying to hide a grin at the thought of some healthy competition.  He had always had a pushy, combative streak even when he was a child, but he thinks Changmin can handle it with his huge paws and thick skin. 

 

“If you want to turn it into a game, then fine,” Changmin tries for aloof, but Yunho catches a glint in his eye and the curl to his mouth like he’s already calculating paces and area.  It seems fitting that Changmin likes competition too. 

 

They part ways, Yunho to the North and Changmin to the South, and before they start Changmin turns to bark, “And it has to look nice! No scattering seeds randomly.  You have to actually _plant_ them! In a _line_!”

 

“Yes, Sire,” Yunho rolls his eyes at Changmin’s need to have everything just-so.  He can hear a faint growling from the other side of the wall, and it’s not the first time that Yunho feels amused instead of scared at the deep rumbling noises. 

 

“Start!”

 

Yunho tries to be methodical and quick, spacing the seeds carefully checking the sketches and lists from the groundskeeper occasionally to make sure he keeps everything in order.  A quick glance tells him that Changmin doesn’t have to; he works only from memory, and it’s giving him and edge.

 

“Like hell,” Yunho huffs, picking up his pace as the desire to win kicks low in his gut.  Sweat makes his shirt cling to his back as he keeps working, getting a little lost in the repetition of motion and warmth of the spring.  He plants irises and lilies and even rosemary, keeping time with his breaths as he moves steadily towards the center.  It becomes rote, mindless, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s practically on top of Changmin until he bumps into the solidness of Changmin’s side, nearly knocking himself over in surprise at the sudden barrier in his way. 

 

“Done already?” He looks down his side of the garden and squints, trying to figure out if he caught up to Changmin, mentally counting lengths to see who covered the most ground.  He’s rudely interrupted by Changmin’s chuckle.

 

“You win.”

 

Yunho spins, “I won?”

 

He can see the muscles in Changmin’s face twitch, like he’s trying not to smile, and Yunho whoops in victory, spinning on the spot, feet tapping out a little waltz with no partner, freeing himself to indulge in the little dance.  Perhaps being captive should dampen his happiness, but it seems to lack the power it did months ago as Yunho finishes his jig with a slightly mocking bow, dipping low at the waist, arm extended sidway.  He’s bending sarcastically before he realizes that such a gesture might be less than appreciated by Changmin.

 

Looking up carefully, his stomach drops to his knees at the slightly blank look on Changmin’s face.

 

“I’m-” Yunho opens his mouth to apologize, but Changmin cuts him off.

 

“You dance very well,” the compliment seems genuine, and Yunho tries not to look too shocked, even as his face flushes and a pleased jolt shoots through his chest.

 

“Thank you, I don’t- I just tried to pick it up from a couple of friends.” Friends like Siwon who went to balls and events, places Yunho could never go.  

 

“You’re better than I ever was,” Changmin smiles ruefully, and Yunho feels his heart break a little bit at the thought of a shyer, smaller, human Changmin trying to tuck himself away during balls and court seasons.  

 

“I could help?” Yunho suggests, at a loss for anything else to do.  It seems to be the right thing though, when Changmin’s face becomes a little less bitter and a little more happy at the offer. 

 

“You would do that? You would try to teach me-” Changmin gestures to himself, as if Yunho may have missed that Changmin is giant and scary and inhuman, “how to dance?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Yunho brushes his hands free of dirt, feeling hunger start to gnaw at his stomach, and the ache through his thighs settles in with a vengeance - muscles protesting the the crouching and bending over the last few weeks. 

 

Changmin just sort of stares after that, making Yunho feel distinctly uncomfortable at the intensity and the unrecognizable emotions flickering behind his dark eyes. 

 

“Well,” Yunho turns towards the castle, gesturing for Changmin to follow, “I’m going to get cleaned up for dinner.  I smell like dirt and sweat.” He wrinkles his nose as he realizes just how disgusting he feels, salty sweat cooling on his skin, making it feel tight and uncomfortable under his clothes.

 

“You smell perfectly fine,” Changmin mutters, and if he weren’t covered in fur, he would likely be blushing a furious red if the way he ducks his head is anything to go on. 

 

“Well thank you, but I’m going to take a bath anyway,” Yunho teases back gently, watching as tension seeps from Changmin’s shoulders, and they both return to the castle. 

 

* * *

 

Dinner is simple: stew and bread and wine.  Yunho eats ravenously, feeling much better after sloughing off the layers of garden that had caked on his skin over the last few days spent outside mucking around outside.  He’s scouring the final remnants of the stew from the bowl with a heel of bread when he catches Changmin watching him from across the long dining table.

 

“Yes?” He raises his eyebrows at the Marquis, but continues to sop up the delicious stew.  He makes a mental note to compliment Reowook when he gets the chance, hoping the flattery will mollify the sharp-tongued ladel.

 

“Am I starving you?” Changmin laughs from across the table, and Yunho can’t stop an affronted sound.

 

“You ate twice as much as I did!” he gestures with his bread at Changmin’s now empty bowl, lucky that crumbs don’t fling everywhere.

 

“I’m twice as big as you,” Changmin turns his snout up, haughtiness in every line of his face.  He is every inch the nobility he was born even while he’s so changed, and Yunho has to laugh.

 

“You are not.  Maybe one and a half bigger,” Yunho smothers his grin in the bread, savoring the last of the taste, but knowing that tomorrow will be just as good. 

 

“Really,” Changmin gives him an unamused look.

 

“I guess we’ll find out for sure when I teach you to dance,” Yunho teases again, “It will be painfully obvious when I’m leading you across the floor.”

 

Changmin splutters, paws curling on the table top in awkwardness, “What- no, I’m going to be leading.  That’s the only way to learn.”

 

“Are _you_ the teacher?” Yunho uses the same voice he calls on when Changmin tries to pick a story without a happy ending - patient and a little antagonizing.  It drives Changmin crazy, and never fails to get Yunho what he wants from a flustered Changmin who has given up trying to exert control. 

 

Changmin glares at him from across the table, and Yunho isn’t sure when he started having fun being around the Beast - when it stopped being a punishment and just became his life.  And a good life at that. 

 

“Well are you?” Yunho pushes, knowing he’s going to pay for this with an extra grumpy Changmin in the library.  He’s going to have to read the Iliad or something to make up for this. 

 

“I’ll make you clean all of the suits of armor in the hall,” Changmin threatens, but it’s entirely empty and they both know it. 

 

“No, you’re not. I lead. You learn to follow.”

 

Changmin follows him to the library.  He makes Yunho read the Iliad, but he doesn’t say anything the entire evening. Not when Patroclus dies, not when Hector says goodbye to his family, his friends, his kingdom.  Instead, he watches Yunho from across the small space, the fire highlighting the flickering sadness and contentment of his expressions in equal measure.  Yunho lets him contemplate undisturbed, and he focuses on reading the words on the pages and speaking the measures of poetry into the quiet of the room. 

 

“Yunho,” Changmin’s voice is soft, and Yunho looks up from the heavy book to catch the Beast’s eye.  His fingers pick restlessly at the fabric of the arm chair, fraying the covering with the nervous habit.  Yunho waits patiently, smile curving his mouth as he watches Changmin struggle with whatever has been on his mind. 

 

“Yunho,” he starts again, sounding no better, “Would you- would you stay?” He sounds so unsure, even with his hulking form in sharp relief against the hearth, lit up in golds and reds.  He should look horrifying, like something from the depths of hell, Yunho thinks, but his curled shoulders and the uncertain slant to his brows makes him look so so small. 

 

“I am staying,” the question doesn’t make sense to Yunho, “I’m staying for almost seven more years.”

 

That twists Changmin’s mouth into a wry smile, like he’s thinking about some private joke.  It’s unsettling. 

 

“I know you are,” he finally looks at Yunho, eyes wide and shining with something like hope, “I mean after.  After your father’s promise has been fulfilled.  Would you still stay with me then?” 

 

Yunho’s mouth opens then shuts, choking on an answer he can’t give.  He want’s to say “yes” to his own astonishment, but the words get caught in his throat when he thinks of Jihye, of his father, of his life he left in the dead of night to come here to the castle.  And he knows he would never stay. 

 

“I can’t,” he confesses, his gut wrenching at the flinch Changmin tries to hide, “But I would try to come back. I would have to leave - I would have to see my sister, my father, my friends, but-” He reaches for the words, scrambling to describe the emotions that bloom and snarl in his chest at the thought of never seeing Changmin again.  

 

“But?” Changmin asks with bitterness, like his curiosity is a curse for needing to know what Yunho has to say.

 

“But I would come back to see you again,” Yunho promises, a little breathless and confused at the conversation, “I would want to see you again, Changmin.” 

 

“But you wouldn’t stay.” 

 

Yunho answered wrong, but he answered honestly. He tries to convince himself that the hurt on Changmin’s face is no one’s fault .

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes anyway, still telling the truth.

 

“Go to bed, Yunho,” Changmin sighs, sounding tired and so thoroughly worn that it cuts, sharp and confusing through Yunho’s chest. But he knows a dismissal when he hears one, and slowly closes the book and pads out of the library, sparing a final glance for the brooding creature he leaves behind. 

 

* * *

 

Before he opens his eyes to the darkness of his room, Yunho knows he’s not alone.  After months, Yunho finally learned to recognize the difference between a true dream and whatever hallucination brings Max to him during the night.  There’s an edge of lucidity to these encounters that Yunho lacks in his other nighttime fantasies, and it leaves him unsettled when morning finally arrives. 

 

“Yunho, I know you’re awake,” Max says quietly, and Yunho gives in with a sigh, sitting up to find the young man standing to the side of the bed.  Yunho lets himself admire long legs and a lean frame before settling on his face, pleased at how sharp the features have become over the course of the dreams.  Long, wavy hair falls in messy locks around wide eyes and a wider mouth that would have haunted Yunho’s dreams if he had seen them during the day. 

 

Yunho muses that it must be silly to be a little bit in love with your own imagination, and probably a little more than narcissistic. 

 

“Staring is impolite,” Max chides, sitting quietly on the bed by Yunho’s knees, his weight almost nonexistent, leaving the covers undisturbed. 

 

“It’s my dream,” Yunho points out, “I think I can stare if I like.” That earns him a rueful smile, one that reminds Yunho of someone else’s - but it would need more snarl to be a perfect match. 

 

Quiet stretches between them as Yunho watches the young man’s hands run against the blankets until they bunch and wrinkle beneath his palms.  Until finally, the man asks, “Are you unhappy here, Yunho?” 

 

“What? Why would you ask me that?” Max, more than anyone else, knows how Yunho feels about the castle, about Changmin, about _everything_ that has happened to him.  The man had witnessed Yunho move from anger to resignation and slowly to contentment over the course of the months, had heard Yunho vent his frustration during the bad days and smile over the good ones. 

 

“You said you wouldn’t stay,” he wraps his fingers around Yunho’s ankle over the covers, and Yunho can almost feel the warm pressure of his hand, wishing it would slide higher, wishing this were happening outside of his head. 

 

“I can’t stay,” Yunho says, staring at his hands upturned in his lap, “I have a family that needs me - friends who I want to see again.”

 

“What about Changmin?”  Yunho looks up in mild surprise, meeting Max’s eyes where sees his own disappointment reflected back at him in deep brown irises.  

 

He isn’t sure how to respond.  It’s the question Changmin would never ask for himself because the Beast thinks he already knows the answer, so Yunho has let himself ignore it as well. 

 

“He would be fine without me for a little while,” Yunho tries, “He has Kyuhyun and Minho and everyone else.  He doesn’t need me once my time is up.”

 

“You think he doesn’t need you?” The slow enunciation betrays the man’s disbelief, “If you’re this dense maybe he _is_ better off without you around.” His eyes glance to the ceiling in silent prayer, and Yunho isn’t convinced the last comment was meant for him. 

 

So he tells Max what he told Changmin, and hopes that it will be enough to convince a figment of his own imagination, “I would try to come back.” He still feels hollow at the words.

 

“Do you care for him?” Max looks up at Yunho through the long fringe of his bangs, the hair doing nothing to hide the intensity and need that burns through them, leaving Yunho to suck in a harsh breath. 

 

“I- I don’t- I’m not sure,” Yunho knows he cares, but the way Max continues to stare twists a sharp guilt through Yunho’s stomach like he’s missed something obvious and important, something he should never have dismissed, and he has to look away to escape the creeping shame. 

 

“You should think about it more, Yunho,” Max gently tilts Yunho’s chin up with a slender finger, smile soft and sad. 

 

“I will,” Yunho promises, surprised at how warm and solid the touch feels on his skin.

 

“You’re a good man, I hope you know that,” and suddenly lips are pressing softly against Yunho’s cheek, dry and a little rough as they brush gently down to the corner of Yunho’s mouth for a brief moment.  Yunho tries to turn into it, heart racing at how real it feels - not at all like a dream - but the touch is gone in a second, Max sitting back, hand still resting against Yunho’s jaw. 

 

“Sleep now,” and like always, no matter how hard he fights it, how quickly he tries to reach out and grab onto the young man, Yunho finds himself slipping into the blankness of a dreamless night of rest. 

 

He’s thankful for it the next morning, when he wakes to a castle in a little bit of a commotion.  The servants all whisper in corners - forks and spoons muttering to each other in the kitchen but falling silent the moment Yunho walks in to join Changmin for breakfast.  Throwing them all a suspicious glance only serves to fuel their tinny gossip, leaving the butter knife in a tizzy, Yunho takes his seat across from the Beast.  

 

Changmin doesn’t look up when Yunho says good morning, eyes trained on a letter lying on the table top.  Yunho can’t see who sent it from where he’s seated, and he tries not to be too obvious about his staring as he eats the warm bread and eggs that Reowook prepared for them.  

 

But Changmin notices anyway.

 

“This arrived at the castle today,” his voice is tight with emotion as he runs a claw down the center of the paper, “Someone from the village brought it this morning just as the sun was rising.”

 

“Oh?” Yunho is terrible at hiding his curiosity.  For the last three seasons, no one had approached the castle, and he had guessed his own disappearance would stop any other curious passersby, but this letter proves him wrong. 

 

“It’s from your father.”

 

“My- my father?” Yunho wheezes, food sliding from his grasp and before he knows it, he’s standing next to Changmin and staring down in disbelief at his father’s familiar handwriting.  Happiness and horror fill Yunho’s chest, crushing his lungs and making it impossible to breathe as he tries to read the words through blurring eyes. 

 

“He’s writing to request your release,” Changmin sounds distant, and Yunho isn’t sure if it’s the monster’s voice or his own blood pounding in his ears because there is only one reason why his father would ask for such a thing.

 

“Jihye,” he chokes out, “Jihye’s gotten worse.”

 

“Yes,” Changmin confirms, his sadness a faint echo of Yunho’s own despair.  

 

“Please,” Yunho begs, reaching out to pull the letter closer, seeing his father’s desperation laid bare in smeared ink lines, “Please, Changmin. Let me go see her.”  He’s ready to bow, to get on his knees to beg Changmin for this one thing, but it’s unnecessary. 

 

“Of course you can go,” Changmin carefully touches the back of Yunho’s hand where it rests on the letter, and Yunho nearly sobs as relief rushes through him, making him lightheaded and shaky.

 

“Thank you,” Yunho gasps, wrapping his arms around Changmin’s own, monstrous limb and burying his face against the Beast’s shoulder, pressing his nose into the clean-smelling fur and reveling in the warmth radiating from Changmin in waves of comfort. 

 

“But you must return to the castle,” Changmin cautions, “You still have a promise to keep.” 

 

“Of course, of course I’ll return,” Yunho nods emphatically, finally pulling away from Changmin’s space. 

 

Changmin rises from his seat, gesturing for Yunho to follow him.  They go together in silence, winding their way through the castle, and it’s not until they climb a familiar stairwell that Yunho realizes where they are.

 

“The western tower?  Why are you taking me there?” Panic wells up unbidden, the winter memory still fresh, and Yunho freezes in his climb up to the top room.

 

“I have something to give you,” Changmin reassures him, “You know I won’t hurt you, Yunho.” 

 

The reassurance eases the tightness in his legs, and Yunho can follow again, sure that Changmin is telling the truth. 

 

The room is exactly as he remembered, austere but well kept.  The portrait and rose are covered, hidden from sight, and Yunho can’t help but feel grateful. 

 

Changmin moves the a corner of the room where a simple wooden chest sits on the cold stone floor and drags it out from against the wall.   A warning from Changmin to not touch anything, serves as a reminder of how personal these items are, how private this place is, and Yunho stands still, watching as Changmin hunches over the now open chest and begins to search. 

 

The Beast rummages for a few moments, muttering curses under his breath, one particularly sharp as he pulls his hand back, shaking it like he was bit by a small animal, and Yunho would have been worried that Changmin was storing a rabid tea cup in there if he weren’t so incredibly prim and tidy about everything. 

 

But he slowly reaches back in, paws clutched tightly around something Yunho can’t see.   Nervousness tightens in the pit of his stomach, heightened by the anxiety welling up in his haste to leave to castle, to see Jihye, and Yunho forces down the guilt he feels at this eagerness before Changmin turns to face him.

 

He looks sad, Yunho notes, as he approaches slowly, brow furrowed as he stares down at his still closed fists.  

 

“I want you to have these,” Changmin whispers, voice catching as he opens his hands to reveal two small, shining objects sitting in the middle of his massive paw. 

 

Yunho carefully picks up one of them.  A shard of a mirror, the edges sharp and cutting, and he realizes what must have hurt Changmin while he searched through the chest. 

 

“That was once my mother’s,” Changmin explains, watching Yunho stare into the fragment.

 

“It’s broken,” Yunho looks up to see Changmin wince and his eyes flicker to the portrait hanging behind Yunho’s shoulder.

 

“I did that,” he admits, “Many years ago.”

 

“Thank you,” Yunho carefully curls his hand around the shard, careful not to press to hard against the edge lest he spill his own blood, “But I don’t understand?”

 

“It has magic, just like most of the other things in this castle,” Changmin explains, gesturing to the table where the rose sits, “If you look into it, and say my name, you’ll be able to see me.”

 

“I won’t be gone for long,” Yunho half smiles, warmed by the Beast’s awkward display of affection, but Changmin shakes his great head, wavy mats of fur fluffing up around him with the movement.

 

“And this,” he holds his hand out to Yunho once more, “was my father’s ring.”  The ring is a dull, hammered gold - simple and almost rustic.  Unadorned with gems or shine, Yunho is surprised at how unassuming it would look on the hand of the former Marquis. 

 

“If you turn it three times, and think of me, you will return to the castle,” Changmin says with a glimmer of hope, and Yunho realizes with a cold sinking feeling that he believes Yunho will never come back. 

 

“Changmin,” Yunho holds the ring and mirror in his hand, cradling it against his chest as he reaches out to the Beast, “Changmin I’ll be back, as soon as Jihye is out of trouble, I’ll come back.” 

 

This time Changmin reaches out too, brushing his ghastly claws through Yunho’s rumpled hair, his paw large enough to cover half of Yunho’s face. It’s warm and dry and comforting as Yunho rests his cheek against his palm, eyes sliding shut so he can remember this tenderness in the days to come, remember why he’s coming back to Changmin.   

 

“I hope you will,” Changmin confesses, “I hope you come back.” 

 

“Of course I will,” Yunho curls the fingers of his free hand around the paw against his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

 

And for the first time that morning, Changmin smiles down at Yunho like he’s given him something beautiful when it’s Yunho holding the gifts. 

 

“Go. Before I change my mind,” Changmin slowly draws his hand away, and Yunho offers a small smile, lets it curve his eyes upwards as he looks at Changmin once more. 

 

“Thank you, for the gifts, for everything,” Yunho isn’t sure why the words are so hard to get out, but they stick in his throat, thick and difficult to work through his mouth.  

 

“Go, Yunho,” Changmin waves him out the door, turning to stare at the shrouded rose and Yunho quietly takes his leave of the tower, sprinting down the stairway to gather his things.  

 

His room is a mess, and he hurries to pack, tossing what clothes he can get his hands on into a satchel, and carefully placing the ring and the mirror towards the bottom, worried they might get lost any place else.  It takes only minutes, but they feel like hours, Yunho’s heart racing as he moves with purpose down the stairs and back to the main hall.  

 

The castle has fallen silent, as though holding it’s breath at the moment of departure, and Yunho is sad that he doesn’t come across Kyuhyun or Minho when he makes his way through the doors, feeling an unintelligible sense of regret follow him out to the courtyard and through the gates as he rides his horse back to the village.  At some point on the journey, the feeling ebbs, and Yunho thinks only of his sister.  

 

* * *

 

“I thought I might find you here,” a small voice from the doorway shakes Changmin from his thoughts, and he breaks his stare away from the rose that has begun to wilt in earnest.  A mound of petals now decorates the table top beneath the simple glass covering, each a reminder of how little time everyone has. 

 

“You always were too clever for a servant boy,” Changmin teases back half-heartedly.

 

“Much smarter than you at least,” Kyuhyun tries to sound smug but the same melancholy Changmin feels in his chest laces Kyuhyun’s voice. 

 

“I had to let him go,” Changmin watches Kyuhyun waddle further into the room but remain silent.  Changmin huffs in frustration, “Well, aren’t you going to scold me? Tell me I’m an idiot for doing it?”

 

“Of course not,” Kyuhyun scoffs, looking up at Changmin like he’s a disappointment, and Changmin wouldn’t argue with that assessment. “It would have been worse for you to tell him he had to stay.”

 

“Even though I’ve never wanted anything more,” Changmin admits, glancing out the tower window, knowing that Yunho is long gone from the grounds. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“I think I love him, Kyuhyun,” the words tumble out of Changmin’s mouth, tongue tripping over the rusty words in their haste to be heard.  

 

“Sire,” Kyuhyun gives him an unsurprised look that’s half defeated by the twisted corner of his mouth, “I think you might be the last person to realize that. Well,” he adds after a thought, “Maybe Yunho is the last.” 

 

That’s just like Kyuhyun - making a joke, a snide comment in a moment of seriousness, and Changmin feels his heart shatter into a million pieces at the realization that their last hope of salvation just rode off into the midmorning light with little hope of returning in time.  He’s going to lose Kyuhyun and Minho and Yunho and absolutely _everyone_. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Kyuhyun,” Changmin gasps, hardly able to breathe as the grief crushes him into the stone floor, sliding into a crouch next to the rose, “I’m so sorry I was so selfish and so horrible, that I couldn’t save you or anyone else. I’m sorry for everything.”

 

“Even if it is twenty years late,” Kyuhyun moves so he can stand next to Changmin, careful to only touch his fur with the brass of his candle holder, but hot wax mats it anyway, “I forgive you.” 

 

“That’s more than I deserve.”

 

A few moments of silence pass before Kyuhyun asks, “Do you think he’ll come back?”

 

“Maybe,” Changmin wants to say yes, but he knows the loyalty and love Yunho has for his family, and he’s not fool enough to believe he could possibly compete with that, “But if he does, it will be too late.” 

 

“How many days do we have left?” 

 

“Maybe twelve,” Changmin admits as another petal falls.


	5. The Curse

The door to the small house crashes inwards as Yunho throws his weight against it in his haste to finally be _home_.  His shoulder smarts as he stumbles into the cluttered single room, but it starts to throb in earnest when a solid body grabs at him, pulling Yunho into a tight hug.  

 

It’s his father, and Yunho almost starts crying in relief to be able to smell the distinct ruddy tones of ink and dirt that remind him of this place.  

 

“You came,” his father huffs against Yunho’s shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his only son, holding on like he never wants to let go.  Yunho lets himself be held for a few moments longer, craving the closeness of the embrace he hasn’t experienced since he was a boy.  But he’s not here for his father - he’s here for Jihye. 

 

“Of course I did,” Yunho says, pulling himself away from his father’s hold, “I want to see Jihye.”

 

“She’s in her bed,” Yunho notices how drawn his father looks when he talks about his sister - skin pale and tight over his face, wrinkles more pronounced than they were only months ago.  The older man runs a hand through unkempt hair, and Yunho has to turn away before he pulls his father close all over again. 

 

“Sleeping?” He asks as he makes his way to her room, feet moving silently across the floor as though they never missed a night of checking on her in the dead of night.

 

“Yes,” he father follows close behind, “She misses you. We all do.”

 

“I miss you too,” Yunho gives his father a soft smile as he cautiously opens his sister’s bedroom door, relieved at freshness that greets him.  The room smells like soap and sweet medicine, not the sweat and disease that Yunho had feared.  Even from the doorway Yunho can see that Jihye sleeps soundly, looking fragile as ever but breathing steadily. 

 

“She doesn’t look as bad as the letter suggested,” he’s not unhappy, just surprised and a little suspicious. 

 

“She made a turn for the better last night,” his father confesses, “but I had already sent the letter.”

 

“It’s alright,” Yunho quietly steps into the room, “Changmin let me come.  I didn’t climb from the tower and escape or anything,” Jihye who stir slightly as Yunho perches on the bed next to her, but she only rolls over and wiggles closer to him.  Even in her ill health, Yunho thinks she’s lovely - they share the same eyes and mouth, both features their mother’s, but on Jihye the delicacy looks fitting, not at odds with broad shoulders and height the way they are on Yunho. 

 

“The Beast has a name?” his father’s disbelief catches Yunho off guard, and he turns to him with a frown.

 

“Of course he has a name.  He didn’t actually crawl out of hell.”

 

“No?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yunho hisses at his father’s raised brow, and slowly stands from the bed to leave Jihye undisturbed. 

 

“You’re defending him - I didn’t realize you had grown so close,” and there’s the same cool distance that Yunho remembers much more clearly than the warmth from minutes before.  It’s the coolness that drove Yunho to work so hard and take care of himself and Jihye so fiercely after their mother died. 

 

Yunho stalks silently from the room, uncaring if his father is behind him or not, anger simmering hot in his chest.  He had forgotten the way people spoke about Changmin, the stories they told to keep their children in bed at night and behaving at the table. 

 

“How long are you staying?” His father followed him after all, and Yunho keeps his back turned, still trying to marshall some calm before facing him again.  Instead, he goes to retrieve his bag from the door, its weight a comfort in his hand.  

 

“A week - Jihye should be through the worst of it by then.”

 

“So you _do_ want to go back?”

 

Yunho snaps, “Yes, father, I’m going to go back.  I have a promise to fulfill remember?”

 

His father’s face flushes red with embarrassment, and he shoots back, “Do you think he would come here and take you then? Leave his castle and drag you away kicking and screaming?”  

 

“Changmin would never do that,” Yunho shakes his head, and he doesn’t mention that Changmin wouldn’t need to drag him - Yunho will go back willingly when the time comes. “He’s not as horrible as you think.”

 

His father makes a sound low in his throat and paces across the room, irritated, “Do you forget that I’ve seen him myself? Because I certainly have not.” 

 

“Yes, he has a temper,” Yunho tries to explain the tangled knot of emotions that presses against his heart when he thinks of Changmin, “But he’s also smart and witty, and he has real heart.”

 

“Heart?” His father’s laughter barks loud and jarring through the tiny home, and Yunho wants to march across the room and smother it with his hand. 

 

He settles for hissing, “You’ll wake Jihye.” 

 

“I didn’t know you could possibly come to care for such a creature,” his father says, quieter now. 

 

“It was easy once he had some time,” Yunho reaches into the his bag, searching for the edge of the mirror, and feeling a sharp sense of relief as his finger tip brushes the jagged edge. 

 

* * *

 

A week passes with Yunho watching Jihye as she shifts in and out of consciousness, but his father seems to have be right - the worst had passed and she was getting better.  On the fifth day she sits up and pouts until Yunho cooks her something that meets her demand of “tasting like real food.”  He tries his best to recreate the stew from the castle, but it doesn’t quite turn out.  

 

But Jihye still thinks it’s edible, “Wow, you must have learned something useful up at the castle,” she teases, voice scratchy from disuse, but smiling brightly at him from her bed. 

 

“Hey, you never used to complain about my cooking,” Yunho takes another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and stifles a sigh of disappointment - it’s just not the same. 

 

“Who else was going to feed me?” Jihye slurps up another mouthful, chewing the small bits of vegetable thoughtfully.  “So it’s not horrible up there with him? You’re doing alright?” 

 

“I’m doing fine,” Yunho slides his hand across the space between them, and links his fingers with Jihye’s, giving them a comforting squeeze that relaxes a tightness around her eyes that Yunho hadn’t noticed before. 

 

Jihye blinks owlishly at him before nodding her head slowly, “I believe you.  But it’s hard without you here sometimes.”

 

“It’s hard not being here most times,” Yunho squeezes her hand again, before gathering their bowls when Jihye’s eyes start fluttering closed, lashes stark against her pallor, and Yunho knows she’s moments from sleep. 

 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promises. 

 

Siwon doesn’t visit until the eighth day, and Yunho is surprised it took his friend this long. 

 

“I knew you would need time with Jihye,” Siwon explains, seated at the small table near the fire place, “I didn’t want to intrude.”

 

“That was thoughtful of you, I’m surprised you managed it,” Yunho teases, pleased when Siwon smiles big and wide and friendly. 

 

“I’m not five anymore, Yunho, I’m capable of considerate things now,” Siwon grins at Yunho, hands wrapped around the mug of ale Yunho poured him upon arrival. Yunho sips his own, relearning the harsher taste of the grain alcohol after being spoiled by Changmin’s wine cellar. 

 

“Knew that church had to be good for something,” Yunho returns the grin, a dull ache in his chest at the easy conversation.  They may not see eye to eye, but Siwon is his oldest friend and Yunho missed him.  

 

“Yunho,” Siwon leans forward, expression serious, and Yunho can see the politician or magistrate or minister Siwon will become in a handful of years, discerning and earnest, “I need to ask you something.”

 

“Okay,” Yunho replies, wary - answering questions seems to be the only thing he’s done since he left the castle, and it’s beginning to exhaust him.  Yunho pulls the irritation inwards, tight against his ribs until he returns to the castle in a few days where he can sort through them undisturbed. 

 

“I want to ask you to stay.”

 

Yunho breathes slowly through his nose, pulling in a steadying breath and exhaling the frustration that escapes his careful hold, “You know I can’t.” 

 

“I don’t mean forever,” Siwon back peddles, turning his hands upward in a gesture of innocence, “But just a while longer.  Until Jihye is better.”

 

“Jihye is going to fine in a couple of days,” Yunho points out, “You know she’ll never really recover.”

 

Siwon growls in frustration, reaching across the small wooden table to wrap Yunho’s wrist between thumb and finger, “Stay and help your father - surely you can see how he’s struggled without you here?  He spends most of his time trying to scrape by and keep Jihye healthy, and the rest of it wallowing in his own guilt.  You’ve seen him, you know how much the past months have aged him, and it’s only going to get worse.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Yunho tries to cut him off, but Siwon shakes his head.

 

“Yunho you have a responsibility _here_ to your family, not there with that monster,” Siwon pleads, “Jihye will get sick again, your father won’t know what to do - they need you.”

 

“Siwon, please,” Yunho pulls his arm off the table, and Siwon lets him go but keeps pushing Yunho, knowing all the right scars to pick open, the right bruises to press. 

 

“You’re all they have.  I don’t know what it’s like at the castle, what the Beast is like to you.  But I know what it’s been like for everyone with you gone - and I’m asking you to stay, Yunho.  For a while at least.  You can go back to finish serving the debt, but not tomorrow or the day after.  Please give them just a little more of your time.”

 

Yunho opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again when the only thing that comes out is a shallow breath.  

 

“What’s one month from eight years? The Beast will be there when you return,” Siwon digs a final time, “You know your father is too proud to ask you to do this, but I have no pride when it comes to you.” 

 

Yunho thinks of Changmin’s face when he let Yunho go - how his mouth had curved down in the most human expression of sadness as Yunho cradled the ring and shard against his chest.  But he can’t ignore the things Siwon has laid out for him, put on his shoulders - his family’s suffering has always been his priority, and it seems as though some things never change.

 

“If what you say is true,” Yunho speaks slowly, eyes watching Siwon carefully for a twitch or slip - trusting the man in front of him, but always remembering the selfish boy he once was, “Then how could I possibly leave?” 

 

Immediately, Siwon relaxes, slouching forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table, “Thank you, Yunho.”

 

“Of course,” Yunho smiles, but only feels it in his cheeks, his chest tight and stomach uneasy, a restlessness setting him on edge even though he can’t explain why.  

 

* * *

 

Anxiety follows him to bed and into his dreams, pulling at the edges of his mind and twisting his visions into inky patches of fear and sadness as he tosses and turns on the small single cot on the floor of Jihye’s room. 

 

“Yunho!” A familiar voice rouses him, and Yunho shoots upright, heart hammering in surprise that Max would follow him even here.  His long, lean form is curled next to the bed, knees tucked tight to his chest as he watches Yunho with wide, terrified eyes. 

 

“Are you alright?” Yunho whispers, panicked at the way the young man’s hands shake as they run through his long hair, pushing it off his pale face. 

 

“No, no I’m not alright,” he chokes out, voice cracking like he hasn’t had a drink in days, breathing ragged in his chest, “Yunho, why did you leave? You were so close!” Desperation cuts a sharp edge to the words, breaking the young man’s voice into splintered pieces. 

 

“Jihye was sick, she needed me,” Yunho reaches out to touch Max’s forehead and recoils with a hiss at how warm his skin is, but how can a dream have a fever? 

 

“What’s happening? Why are you sick? What do you mean I was so close?” The questions pour out of Yunho, exhaustion and anger and unhappiness wearing down his careful control. He’s tired of the questions, of the requests, of everyone asking him for something but never asking him what he wants. 

 

“The curse, Yunho,” the young man wheezes, fingers clawing into his knees and turning his knuckles white with the tightness, “It could have been over, you could have done it.” 

 

“The curse?” Yunho echoes back dumbly. 

 

“What do you think make Changmin like this? What kind of magic do you think it was?” Max hisses through gritted teeth, spluttering around some invisible pain that shakes through him and leaves him panting. 

 

“He never said-” The gnarled mass of emotions that’s been sitting in Yunho’s chest tightens, chokes him with frustration and hurt and no small amount of guilt.  He should have known, should have guessed that something dark was at work; he could have read into the careful silences of Changmin’s story, filled in the bottomless gaps with what was right in front of him. 

 

“Of course he didn’t,” Max spits out, sliding down the wall a little further, “He’s stupid and hopeless and desperately in love with you, which is highly unfortunate for him.” 

 

“Love?” The word is incongruous, and Yunho tries to wrap his mind around it, but he more he thinks the more it fits in nice and neat with Changmin and his changes of heart. 

 

“It’s going to become permanent.  The curse, the spell, and you’re the only person who can stop it.  Please, Yunho,” the stranger gasps, eyes closing tight as his breath heaves in and out, “Please.” 

 

“I don’t know what you want, what Changmin wants!” Yunho breaks, “How am I supposed to fix this? Why is it my responsibility?” 

 

The stranger doesn’t open his eyes, but his breathing evens out, slow inhales and exhales the only sounds filling the quiet room.  

 

“You aren’t supposed to do anything,” the young man finally speaks, voice quiet, “I’m sorry, Yunho.  You have done more than you can possibly imagine.” 

 

“What’s going on?” Yunho can feel sleep creeping up on him once again, and anger burns behind his eyes because _it’s not fair_. 

 

“It’s alright, Yunho,” Max lets go of his knee to brush a thumb across Yunho’s cheek, over his nose, down to his lips with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you.  I should never have come tonight - I should never have asked you for more than you’ve already given.”

 

It feels like goodbye, and Yunho fights harder to stay in the dream, “Please don’t go. Please stay,” he feels selfish and horrible - like his family and his friends - for asking this of Max, for needing him like this. 

 

“I can’t, Yunho, I can’t,” the hand drops from his face with a dull thud, falling onto the straw-packed cot.  “Ah, you see? Not much time left at all,” Max muses, watching is own arm like it’s someone else’s, “Sleep. Sleep well and forget all of this.  I think it would be better that way.”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Yunho growls, and Max laughs, faint and fading into the darkness of the room. 

 

“Good night, Yunho,” and in the space of a heart beat, the man is gone, leaving Yunho alone and terrified in his sister’s room.  And very much awake. 

 

Jihye waking with a quiet snuffling sound distracts him, and Yunho tears his eyes away from where the stranger sat only moments ago. 

 

“Yunho?” She calls out softly.  

 

Rising immediately, he moves to sit next to her, resting his hand on the top of her head, soothing noises pulled from him out of habit at the sight of her scrunched face. “I’m still here, don’t worry.” 

 

“You’re the one who’s always worried,” she sighs, eyes blinking open to stare up at him blearily, “Right now especially.  Did you have a nightmare?” 

 

“I don’t know,” he admits, unease sitting cold and hard in the pit of his stomach, “I think something might be wrong.” 

 

“It’s him isn’t it,” Jihye struggles to sit upright, brushing Yunho’s hand from her hair with a look of irritation, “The Beast?”

 

“Changmin,” Yunho corrects without thinking, and the unease grows, reaches his chest, “And yes - I think there’s something wrong with him.” 

 

“Can you find out?” Jihye asks, “Send a letter to the castle like father did?”

 

“No,” Yunho draws the word out, and he could punch himself for being so dense, “Not a letter, but I think I might have something better. Can you keep a secret?” He glances at Jihye, who nods enthusiastically, pressing a finger to her lips in a gesture that reminds Yunho so much of their mother that he presses a kiss to her forehead in adoration.

 

His satchel lies in the corner of the room, never unpacked for all of the reasons Yunho never thought to admit until now when he feels the need to be gone already.  Carefully, he rummages to the bottom, feeling for the cool glass and metal of the gifts Changmin had given him that morning in the castle, muffling a cry of victory when he finds them, half tangled in a shirt sleeve.  

 

He shows the ring and shard to Jihye, “He gave me these.” 

 

“It looks like junk,” her nose scrunches up as she peers at them, disappointment obvious on her face. 

 

“Give me a minute, I haven’t done the trick yet,” Yunho slides the ring onto his fourth finger for safe keeping, where it settles nicely at the base of the digit.  

 

He focuses on the mirror, holding it in both hands like it were made of the most delicate material on earth.  

 

“What are you going to do?” Jihye whispers, excitement lacing her voice as she shuffles closer, peering over Yunho’s shoulder to see into his hands. 

 

“I’m going to show you the Beast,” he says, “This will let me see that there’s nothing to worry about, and you can see that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

 

Jihye’s exhale ruffles the hair at Yunho’s neck, slow and whistling through her teeth, “Okay. Do it.” 

 

Yunho shuts his eyes and thinks of Changmin.  Changmin and his temper.  Changmin and the way he pouts when Yunho spends too much time talking to the lively servants.  Changmin and the garden and the long evenings and bright mornings spent together amongst books and scrolls and wonderful stories.  Changmin and his loneliness and his love. 

 

“Show me the Beast.” 

 

“Oh,” Jihye gasps, and Yunho opens his eyes.  The mirror looks the same - cool and reflective - but instead of Yunho’s own face he sees a familiar room and a familiar shape.  Changmin, in the western tower, seated in a simple wooden chair by the uncovered rose.  And for a moment, relief floods through Yunho, a welcome release to the guilt and nervousness that had been building over the last few days.  

 

“Is he asleep?” Jihye moves even closer, pressing up against Yunho’s back with curiosity and peering down into his hands.  Yunho squints, brings the shard to his face to really _look_. 

 

Changmin seems to be very still, but Yunho catches the shaking and trembling in his claws and the pained set to his jaw and brow.   And the rose - the rose looks dead, petals falling in rotting heaps on the table top, only a few hanging onto the stem any longer.  It looks sick, and Changmin looks worse. 

 

“Something’s wrong,” he stands suddenly, jostling Jihye back onto the bed in his haste, and he immediately feels bad, rushing to help his little sister up.

 

“I’m fine,” she brushes him off, running her hands through her hair, and Yunho sees for the first time in what feels like years a flush in her cheeks and an annoyed glint in her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

 

“I don’t know, but I think it might be serious.” Yunho stands next to the bed, rocking on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do.

 

“Why are you still standing here then?” Jihye asks, voice suggesting that Yunho may be the dumbest person she has ever had the misfortune to know. 

 

“What do you- I promised I would stay?” Yunho gapes back, and Jihye crosses her arms.

 

“Who did you promise?” 

 

“Siwon, he said that you’ve been terrible and father’s been worried, and you both-” 

 

“Ugh, of course he stuck his nose in,” Jihye bites out, eyes narrowed, and Yunho clams up.  “You know how Siwon is - selfish, meddling, a little too sure of what’s best for everyone.” 

 

“Yes but-” Yunho stutters in the face of his sister’s logic.

 

“Yunho,” she puts her hand up, silencing him with a look for good measure, “What do you want to do?” 

 

The question leaves him at a loss for words.  For so long, everything he did had been for someone else. Finding a job to help his family; taking care of his sister for his father; serving a sentence in his father’s place.  None of it was for him. 

 

Now it’s time to do what he wants, and it’s terrifying. 

 

“I need to go,” he says, stunned at his own answer, but Jihye’s mouth curls into a knowing smile. 

 

“I’ll take care of father,” she gestures to his bag, “Do you have a horse or anything?” 

 

“Don’t need one,” Yunho holds up his hand, pulling the hammered ring off his finger to show to Jihye, “I have this.”

 

“What is going on up at that castle?” She mutters. 

 

“I’m not even sure what’s happening,” Yunho confesses, holding the ring carefully between his thumb and forefinger, “But I know I need to go.  I think Changmin’s in trouble.”

 

“Do you care about him?” Jihye asks.

 

Yunho finally has an answer, “Yes.  I think I do.”

 

“Then get going, before it’s too late.” 

 

With Jihye’s warning echoing in his ears, Yunho turns the ring three times, thinking of Changmin and how desperately he wants to see him, to make sure he’s okay, to tell him all of the things he’s kept tight against his chest - so tight even he had trouble seeing it.  

 

* * *

 

Magic works strangely - hot like a fire licking its way along Yunho’s spine, but at the same time it’s like drowning in the frozen lake, and Yunho gasps for breath when it’s all over, fighting the sensation of water in his lungs by filling them with reassuring swallows of air.  His head spins, as though he stood up too fast and it takes a moment for his eyes to refocus until he can see the low seedlings of the garden.  

 

The ring did its duty, and now Yunho needs to do his.  

 

The castle sits silently around him when he finally pushes through the gate, no one greeting him and no other sounds of movement.  It’s eery and disturbing, Yunho moving through the corridors with increasing unease, breaths rattling in his throat as he fights down a sensation that screams he’s too late.  With no other idea, he sprints to the western tower, throwing himself up the stairs, heart hammering a hard staccato in his chest as he takes them two at a time, desperate to get to Changmin. 

 

He has so much to say, and prays he’s not too late to say it.  It seems obvious now, the connection between Changmin and the rose - the jealousy with which he guarded it, the horrified fascination he had watched it with that day months ago.   Yunho hurtles up the final steps and bursts through the door without thinking, running on instinct and the need to see Changmin in the flesh.  

 

The door swings open, silent as always, and Yunho immediately sees Changmin curled on the floor. He remembers the dream and Max’s sickness, and fights down dawning horror when he sees it reflected in Changmin’s hunched body, shaking and radiating heat. 

 

“Changmin,” his mouth works around the name, and the Beast shifts against the stones beneath him.

 

“Yunho,” his voice sounds ragged and wrecked, pain obvious in the breathlessness, “You came back.”

 

“I told you I would,” Yunho takes a hesitant step forward, but a vicious growl from Changmin freezes him in place.

 

“Don’t- don’t come near me,” Changmin curls in on himself, away from Yunho, “Please Yunho, get away from me.  You need to go, I need-” but an anguished cry swallows the end of the warning, Changmin’s claws scraping across the stone floor with a terrible shredding sound.  Empathy rips through Yunho, propelling him forward until he can rest a hand on Changmin’s huge, trembling shoulder.  

 

“Changmin, what’s happening?” 

 

Pain slices through Yunho’s arm, sudden and white hot as Changmin strikes him, claws tearing through cloth and flesh with ease.  Blood wells up from the wounds and runs free, staining Yunho’s shirt and dripping down his hand in bright rivulets.  

 

 _You know I won’t hurt you, Yunho_. 

 

“Changmin,” Yunho chokes out, arm resting tight against his chest as he watches Changmin writhe against the ground, useless and scared of what’s happening to him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Changmin’s voice is barely intelligible now, garbled and animalistic as it grinds out of his mouth, and whatever is happening to Changmin seems to work faster, bending Changmin’s spine, and Yunho can only watch in terror as Changmin writhes and cries out, becoming less coherent with each passing moment. 

 

“Kyuhyun! Minho!” Yunho shouts, hoping for someone to help him, but already knowing that no one will be coming. 

 

From the corner of his eye, Yunho sees a petal drop from the rose, and Changmin practically screams.  In the time it takes for it to join the rest of the petals on the table top, Yunho understands.

 

“Permanent,” Yunho whispers, terror gripping him when he sees there’s only one petal left, and it hangs by only a hope.  It’s more than the shape of a beast that will stay - Changmin will lose whatever is left of the person he was and become a monster forever. The thought of losing Changmin is unbearable, and grief buckles his knees, sending him to the ground with a strangled sound.  

 

“No,” Yunho slides slowly towards Changmin, still holding his arm tight against his body, “You can’t, this isn’t happening.”  His eyes are blurry and it makes him angry, shaking his head back and forth like it will magically make everything stop. 

 

“Yunho,” Changmin’s voice is hardly recognizable - more growl than speech, and something shifts behind his eyes.  Like light flickering out, they flatten and lose their spark, and panic wells up sour and horrible in Yunho’s throat.

 

“No,” he tries to run his shaking hands through Changmin’s fur as the Beast’s writhing slows and the transformation nears it end, “No, no, no, no,” Yunho shouts, a sob catching in his chest from as he watches Changmin disappear in front of him.

 

“You can’t go,” Yunho finally reaches out, fingers pulling through the warm brown fur by Changmin’s cheek, “I love you too.”

 

There are no more petals left on the rose, and the empty stem and Changmin’s horrifying stillness are condemnations of Yunho’s failure.  Yunho gasps twice, shuddering breaths shaking his frame, and even though the monster could wake at any moment, Yunho can’t bring himself to move, paralyzed by what he’s lost.  

 

Moments slip by, and Yunho still hasn’t moved when a shudder runs through the Beast and a ragged breath heaves through his chest.  Yunho continues to sit, hand still resting against the monster’s head, fingers tangled in fur and unwilling to let go, feeling reckless in his grief.  But another shudder racks the Beast’s large frame, this time more violent, bending limbs at painful angles and twisting his spine into a harsh curve, throwing Yunho back against the wooden chair.  

 

The shaking intensifies, and Yunho scrambles away as self preservation kicks in as he stares, mind racing to process what’s happening in front of him.  

 

Long arms curl and bend, and Yunho blinks hard to clear his eyes because he thought he saw movement beneath the fur, like bones were shifting and shrinking.  But the strangeness of the movements continue, and Yunho can’t stand the thought of looking away, hope clawing its way up from somewhere dark and desperate but growing brighter the Beast’s chest continues to rise and fall. 

 

A prickling heat cover’s Yunho’s injured arm but he only spares it a brief glance because moments later Changmin’s fur starts to disappear, growing shorter and closer towards the skin.  Yunho can’t manage to stifle a curse when limbs realign and settle into something more familiar, something more human, and soon Yunho is staring at expanses of smooth skin, uninterrupted but for the mop of wavy, unkept hair that obscures any sort of facial features.  

 

The Beast is gone, and instead Yunho finds himself staring at a young man, a young man who’s shoulders and build look familiar from dark nights and confusing dreams, and with a second curse Yunho finds himself rushing forward to brush away locks of hair from a face that has him choking on a sob of disbelief. 

 

Carefully, Yunho cradles a face with a wide pink mouth between his hands, fingers trailing over a strong nose and heavily lashed eyes, eyes that slowly blink open to reveal rich brown irises clouded in confusion.  

 

“Max?” Yunho doesn’t understand.  

 

“Yunho? Why are you using that stupid nickname.  No one but my mother calls me that,” His voice is the same, a quiet and comforting blend of rich tenors, and Yunho can’t stop the smile from breaking out across his face even as Changmin continues to lie on the floor, unconcerned with Yunho’s hovering or his own nakedness. Slowly, delicate fingers wrap around Yunho’s wrists, and the skin on skin touch seems be the missing piece.  

 

Changmin rockets upright, nearly cracking his head against Yunho’s skull, hands held in front of his own face, bending and spreading the fingers in fascination.  Awe struck, he glances down at very human arms, legs, toes, knees, breathing ragged as he takes it all in, and Yunho waits to ask the hundreds of thousands of questions rattling through his head. 

 

“I’m human,” Changmin looks back into Yunho’s face, eyes shining in devastating happiness, “You did it, Yunho, you broke the curse and saved me- saved everyone!” Changmin reaches out again, and Yunho eagerly leans into the touch, astonished that he can have this - can have Changmin and his dream and it’s all so much more than he could have ever hoped for when moments ago he believed it was all lost. 

 

“No, Changmin,” Yunho shakes his head, turning it to press a his lips against a soft palm, “You did. You learned to love, and it’s the only reason I could love you back.” 

 

“We can call it a tie” Changmin smiles, wide and beautiful, and it curves his eyes into mismatched crescents.  Yunho has difficulty breathing at the sight. 

 

Fingers curl tighter around his jaw, a second hand moving to cup Yunho’s face gently, as Changmin hovers closer.  Yunho catches the glint of need in flared pupils, the darkness threatening to swallow him up, and Yunho thinks he would be okay with that, with losing himself completely in the other man.

 

“Yunho,” Changmin sighs, hot breath ghosting over Yunho’s lips, and Yunho doesn’t manage to muffle the soft noise that escapes him.  The sound breaks whatever hold Changmin had over himself in these new moments, and he rushes to up to brush his mouth over Yunho’s in a gentle but fumbling touch of lips.  It’s not enough, and Yunho presses forward with another noise, chasing the feel of Changmin against him, fingers sliding against Changmin’s neck to feel the fluttering pulse just beneath the skin as he slides his mouth harder against Changmin’s plush lips.  

 

“I love you,” Changmin breathes into Yunho, words whisper soft against Yunho’s mouth before they’re crushed by Changmin’s eager kiss, harder and wetter than before and Yunho aches for it.  Twisting his fingers into the loose strands of Changmin’s long hair, Yunho tries to give as good as he gets, desperate and happy, so so happy, as he slants his mouth to get a better taste of the Marquis, until his head starts spinning and he remembers to breathe.  

 

They part with a gasp, Changmin still tucked close against Yunho, trailing more soft kisses over Yunho’s cheeks and neck, like there’s nothing else that could interest him more, than relearning Yunho in this way that neither of them ever thought possible. 

 

“We need to get you clothes,” Yunho mutters, but Changmin cuts him off with another kiss, insistent as he licks his way into Yunho’s mouth, tongue tracing the ridges of Yunho’s teeth before Yunho pulls away again with a stern look to mask the way his heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest. 

 

“Do we?” Changmin smiles and slides his hands up Yunho’s thighs.

 

“Yes,” Yunho laces their fingers together, still giddy at the warmth and realness of them, of Changmin sitting in front of him - human and all his.  “Besides, you likely have a castle full of uncursed servants who probably have a lot to say to you right now.”

 

“Oh,” Changmin grins like the thought had never occurred to him, “Everyone will be back. You can meet Kyuhyun!” 

 

“I’ve met Kyuhyun,” Yunho protests, getting to his feet and pulling Changmin up with him, arms wrapping around a thin waist as Changmin’s legs threaten to give out. 

 

“Not like this you haven’t,” Changmin mutters darkly before turning huge deer eyes back on Yunho, “Are you sure we need to go?”

 

“Changmin,” Yunho pulls him closer, feeling his solidness against his side, and it sets his heart singing, “We have the rest of our lives, don’t we?”

 

“Yes,” Changmin smiles again, bright and sunny - face clear and perfect and Yunho will never ever believe there is anything more important or precious than this, “I suppose we do.” 

 

And just because he can, Yunho kisses him again. 

 


End file.
